A Glimpse of My World

Defense Language Institute

2012-01-24T20:49:00.000-08:00

At long last I completed my training at Ft. Huachuca and I am now holding under here in Monterey, California at the Defense Language Institute (DLI), waiting for my classes in Russian to start. So far I don't love it here. I have a LOT more freedom here than I ever had at Ft. Huachuca, but the barracks are worse than they were at basic training. I'm back to communal showers which is actually the part that I dislike the most. Fortunately for me, I am getting married next month, and Justin is going to save me from having to live here much longer. Had I known about these barracks in advance I probably would have begged him to marry me over Christmas exodus. Oh well, such is life. My classes don't start until March, so in the meantime I sit around and do nothing for hours on end every day, and daydream a lot in an effort to preserve my sanity.

A change of plans

2012-01-03T11:20:00.000-08:00

I was going to get married in May, but Justin's tuition payments have fallen victim to the inefficiency of the Army. We've decided that rather than try and sort it all out and risk never being reimbursed for the money we'll have to front for tuition payments, to just call it for this semester. Now we're getting married on February 18th, President's day weekend, at the Mt. Timpanogas temple. It's still not terribly convenient timing, but that's the Army for you. We did however get to spend two weeks together over Christmas exodus. We spent a little time with my family at the beginning and end of exodus, and most of the inbetween on vacation with his family. I have included pictures here of us from the trip.

This is one of my favorite pictures of Justin. I like him a lot without his glasses, but unfortunately he's all but blind without them. The good news is that I still like him a lot with them too. This is him on a ferry boat on the Mississippi River.
This is a picture of us with his whole family at a restaurant in New Orleans where we had our Christmas eve dinner.

This is us in Dallas at the Grassy Knoll on the street where JFK was assassinated.

This is us at the zoo in Houston. He doesn't like this picture, because he says he doesn't know why I'm all slouched over and not smiling. Neither do I.

This is a look I get from him a lot, usually when I've just tried to get a little bossy. We were on a tour of a swamp in New Orleans.

This is again, not a spectacular picture of me, but it's one of my favorites of him so I decided to throw it in.

This is us on the beach in Biloxi, Mississippi.

This is also one of my favorites of us, at the Jefferson Davis house in Biloxi.

Engaged - May 26th

2011-11-14T19:03:00.000-08:00

For those who may not already know, I got engaged to the man pictured above (we don't have any pictures of the two of us together yet, we'll get to that eventually). We met at Ft. Huachuca, on the temple trip I wrote about on here a few months back. So yes, it's been fast. Faster than either of us ever intended on moving. We've now become one of those annoying couples that say things like "well once you know it's right, why wait?" I never in a million years thought that I'd hear myself echoing those sentiments, particularly since I secretly regarded people who did say that as idiots. To make things worse, we met at AIT. Drill Sgts. started issuing warning about AIT relationships back in basic training. During the first briefing I attended at Ft. Huachuca an officer stood up and delivered a lengthy speech about not involving ourselves in romantic relationships at AIT. By all accounts they are distracting, lead to bad behavior, are costly, and are ultimately desitined for failure, and heaven help the stupid soldiers who go so far as to actually marry their significant other from AIT. Apparently I am an idiot, because I'm still convinced we're the exception, and that I met my one and only at AIT.

So a little bit about him...his name is Justin, he's enlisted in Idaho National Guard, and lives in Boise for the time being. He is a little bit younger than me so he's got some schooling ahead of him and he will start at USU in January. The good news is that this also means that I outrank him. (Although for the most part whenever I try to pull rank he blantantly disregards my authority over him. We'll work on making him a better soldier with more respect for his superiors.) He graduated from AIT a while back, and returned to Idaho, while I remain trapped in TRADOC. We periodically get to see each other on 4-days, but for the most part we're restricted to self-inflicted sleep deprivation from our evening/late night phone calls. (My roommate threatened to Nair my eyebrows off in my sleep if I don't start cutting the phone calls a little bit shorter, so that's something to consider going forward.) It sucks, but we make the best of it. I don't know what else to say about him, other than he puts up with me, and even professes to enjoy our limited time together.

On May 26th we'll be sealed in the Bountiful temple in Utah, over one of my 4-days and we will finally get to be together again. It's a pain in the neck trying to plan a wedding (I hate planning what to pack in my suitcase for vacation, and now I'm expected to plan a wedding from an Army base in nowhere Arizona...not going well at all...), but I can't wait for him to be my husband, so I'm determined to get this all figured out. With a LOT of assistance from the home front I'll make sure we pull this off, because he is the only man that makes me want to ditch the last minute vacations, live on a budget, answer to someone else, and basically just grow up and act like an adult.

Veteran's Day 2011

2011-11-11T11:57:00.000-08:00

I have a four day this weekend for Veteran's day. My favorite cousin, Cousin Glen, drove my car down to Ft. Huachuca (all the way from Utah), so I can have it there for the remainder of my stay, and now we're catching a flight back to Utah for the long weekend. I was (and am) so excited to see Cousin Glen... he's the bestest... I'm glad to be going home as well, and wasn't at all sad to lock up all my gear yesterday. I won't have to put it all back on again until Tuesday morning, and I will not miss it at all. If you've never had the opportunity to wear full kit around all day, you're not missing much. It's heavy, makes me feel three times wider than I actually am, and the kevlar makes the bobby pins in my hair dig into my scalp. I won't miss it.

As is generally the case with these things we ran into a few complications along the way, like the fact that Glen brought a handgun, and then discovered at the airport parking place that the locks he bought don't fit the case. A few gas stations later we determined that the gun would have to be left behind in a safe place... under a rock off the side of the road by a special creosote bush. He says he will remember which one but I have my doubts. We then parked my car, and I'll have to figure out what to do with that item before I return to base on Monday. Pick it up or leave it under said rock. Then he had to surrender a leatherman to TSA when he got caught with one in his bag at the x-ray machine. Turns out they don't make nearly as big a fuss about that as they do about a loaded gun clip in your bag. Now we're shooting the breeze in the Phoenix airport waiting for the connecting flight that's going to take us back to the home state... all because I scheduled a 12 hour layover in Phoenix. I like spending Veterans day with my most favorite vet, even if it is just killing time in an airport.

Tell Me Lies

2011-09-24T00:16:00.000-07:00

I would say that on the whole schooling here has been going pretty well. However, the Army is bound and determined to turn me into a liar, and in the words of one of my instructors "it's painful to watch you try and lie Black." I would say that the problem is just that I can't keep a straight face while I'm telling lies, but I've been corrected on this point and told that my lies are stupid and not very inventive. One of my instructors briefly made an attempt to resolve the issue by holding me captive at the company one Saturday evening until I could tell him one truth and one lie and he couldn't tell the difference. I was allowed to make one attempt every half hour. After I had made multiple failed attempts and my date that evening had text messaged me to say that he had proceeded to the movie without me and wished me luck in getting done in time for dinner, I finally had to resort to telling two truths and then lying to the sgt by telling him that he'd selected the wrong one. When I got back to the company that night he had put me on the next fireguard shift because he said that he could tell that I wasn't telling the truth about that either, so we would need to continue practicing. After a few more unsuccessful attempts and a lot of mocking I finally managed to distract him with an odd story from my flight back to Arizona after the Labor day 4-day pass wherein a weird private (from a polygamist family in Utah) who I had never met before wound up sleeping on my shoulder on the last flight, and then tried to makeout with me. It was all very strange, and pretty much left the sgt so shocked/amused that he forgot all about the lies. That being said, he will still periodically stop class and demand "Black, tell me a lie," and then laugh at my attempts at deception. It's not really about helping me learn to be a liar anymore, it's more like he's bored and needs a laugh. I'm okay with it. My favorite moment was when my own mother told me at the end of a phone conversation the other day "well just keep practicing telling lies and I'm sure you'll get better." ...words I never thought I would hear her speak. Some day I'm going to come up with a really great lie and no one will be able to tell the difference. Some day....

Cadences

2011-09-21T20:24:00.000-07:00

I haven't updated this thing in a long time. In large part due to the fact that my instructors have made statements about blogs that have left me a tiny bit paranoid about incidentally sharing too much information online. Well there's that and the fact that I've only recently acquired access to the internet in the barracks. Either way, I'm over it now, I'll just watch what I say and carry on.

As I mentioned in a previous post, drill and ceremony hasn't exactly ever been my forte. Although I haven't really tried to improve in that area either. Marches are something that I just sort of endure, in large part because I hate cadences. I don't like marching around having everyone around me shouting and chanting, and I generally only participate when I feel like the sgts are watching, or when I'm at the front of the formation where my lack of participation would be more obvious. The rest of the time I march along in silence and try to pretend that all the noise around me isn't really there.

The other morning I got in formation to go to breakfast chow and fully intended to have yet another uneventful march up to the dfac. The sgt who is a self-proclaimed "angry Russian" all the sudden started shouting "Specialist Black, Post! You'll be marching us to chow this morning." For some idiotic reason it had never really occurred to me that this could happen someday, so I was caught completely off guard, and having been a non-participant in cadences as much as possible all I could say was "I don't know any cadences Sgt." I wouldn't say that really went over well. There was quite a bit of cursing and an order to "just do it," and after that a pathetic little attempt on my part, which was shut down rather abruptly and I was ordered to fall back into formation and told that I suck.

I thought that would be the end of it, but no. He hunted me down in line at the dfac and informed me that I would be prepared with 3 cadences the next day. So naturally I waited until a few minutes before bedcheck to contemplate addressing the issue, and then had someone write out all the lines to a cadence on a piece of paper for me. The next day at lunch chow we all lined up and I heard again "Specialist Black! Post!" I ran out to take the formation, and my sgt asked me if I was prepared. I told him that I was and then produced the piece of paper. Now, obviously I knew that there was no way, no how that he was going to be okay with me marching along reading cadence off of a piece of paper, but it was too funny an opportunity to pass up. I thought he was going to snap when he saw my paper. Instead all that came out was "BLACK! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!!!! IS THIS A JOKE?! THAT'S HOW YOU PREPARE TO CALL CADENCE?!" Then there was more cursing while I tried to act all shocked like I couldn't believe that he was objecting to my preparations. He order me back into formation, told me again that I suck.

He did of course hunt me down in line at the dfac again and tell me in no uncertain terms that I will learn to call cadence. The same day at formation for dinner chow we're standing there and I hear again "Specialist Black! Post!" This time I came out to take formation and told him that I still didn't have any cadences since they didn't teach me any in class since lunch. I got barked at again and told to fall to the back of the formation...again. Then he started shouting at the rest of the company for not stepping up and teaching me a cadence. There was a lot more swearing involved, but I'm pretty sure he made his point. One of the privates came up to me in line and told me a couple of lines that I would just have to shout out that would launch the company off on a lengthy little cadence that didn't require much echoing.

That Sgt was gone all day the next day, and I had almost forgotten about it, and was feeling pretty safe when we lined up to go to an evening class, and all the sudden I hear "Specialist Black! Post!" By then the whole company was laughing when I ran out to take the formation. I actually did manage to call a few cadences and get them marched over to the battalion without screwing things up too bad. I have not been called upon again to call cadence, but I suspect that this might not be the last time I get called out. I hope the company is fond of those cadences.... because they're pretty much the only ones I know.

New Folks

2011-08-19T21:36:00.000-07:00

My classmates have at long last started to arrive. A whole herd of them came all at once this afternoon. Our platoon sergeants let us hold unders stand out in the barracks entrance and watch them yell and freak out at the new students as they arrived. It was actually more entertaining than I had anticipated. I liked watching them assume this wide-eyed deer in the headlights look as they walked through the door. It was even more interesting when one of them did something stupid and got singled out for some individual torment.

The new students were shuttled into the multi-purpose room for their in-processing brief, and the hold unders got to go lounge around in another room. We were called into the briefing for a short little while, and I decided that I am really grateful that I got to be a hold under and show up in the middle of the night instead of being part of the herd. They all looked very nervous and some of them seemed flat out upset. 1st Sgt. gave them a stern little lecture about not being a screw up, that didn't really seem to put any of them at ease. In fact I would say his speech had very much the opposite effect. They all looked very tense throughout the whole thing.

There's another herd of students scheduled to show up tomorrow, and at long last class will finally be starting on Monday. I'm finally going to be moving from my current position as military janitor/grounds crew, to AIT student. This is a very big step in my military career.

2011-08-14T19:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday myself, along with my fellow hold unders got shipped over to battalion headquarters for detail work. This happens to us a lot since they have a lot of weeds over there. However, as it turns out we weren't weeding. There were a bunch of Sgt. Majors there doing board interviews for NCO's trying to get into a very elite little club of NCO's. They do all kinds of assessments on the candidates, a few of which require a soldier (one of us hold unders) to stand in and assist. Someone had to play the part of a casualty while the candidate demonstrated combat first aid, in another room they observed the candidate teaching a private drill and ceremony, and then there was an assessment where the candidate marched the remaining hold unders around a field. Since my drill sergeants hadn't taught me one of the key marching moves I was dismissed from the marching field and sent into the room to receive the drill and ceremony instruction. That also meant that I had to just sit there for the rest of the interview watching the NCO suffer while the SM grilled him. It was like the worst job interview you can imagine. The SM is super intimidating , and the first thing he wanted to see was the NCO's dog tags and belt to make sure that they were meeting regulation. They were always a little below standard and then there was the awkward conversation about the deficiency:

SM: "Why is your belt buckle all scratched up? Isn't it regulation for that to be a black belt buckle?"

NCO: "Yes, SM"

SM: "Do you not think that it's important for your belt to meet the standards?"

NCO: "I do think it's important SM."

SM: "So why is yours all scratched up?"

NCO: "No excuse SM"

SM: "I'm going to suggest that you get that fixed as soon as possible Sgt."

NCO: "Yes, SM"

Then he finally lets them take a seat to start the interview. The interview is terrible. The SM would, in my opinion, intentionally design the interview to highlight deficiencies in some little folder of work goals, or some such thing that the NCO had submitted. It was impossible to sit there and not feel a little bit of pity for the NCO who was already visibly nervous about the whole thing, and then squirming under the unrelenting stare of the SM when he had them cornered on some inadequacy. To make things all the more awkward, the SM would ask questions, and then interrupt the NCO in the middle of answering. The question he interrupted with was usually entirely unrelated to the original question, so the NCO was constantly scrambling trying to formulate a good response before he'd get cut off again. It was really kind of painful to watch, especially when I felt like the NCO was not doing well.

The whole thing was very interesting to observe, but kind of freaked me out a bit since I will eventually have to go to board interviews, that I presume will be of a vaguely similar nature to try and get promoted so I can finally get some stripes. It's a ways off though. The 1st Sgt. put me in charge of marching the platoon the other day. Let's just say that I provided quite a bit of amusement to the rest of the platoon. It's a work in progress. I guess all those days of daydreaming through formation at basic are catching up with me in a bad kind of way. Maybe DS Scott was on to something when he told me that I needed to stay more alert in his formation...maybe.

Overheating

2011-08-06T20:54:00.000-07:00

The temple trip today was fantastic. I got a lot of funny looks walking into the temple in acu's, but it was definitely worth getting past the stares. I loved wearing a dress again. It's the first time in months that I've actually worn any clothes that weren't issued to me by the military.

The trip home was somewhat more eventful than the trip out. The military bus we were riding in started overheating, and our bus driver was forced to pull over and have us sit by the side of the freeway while we waited for the temperature to come back down. Our bus driver was a chaplain, but you would have never guessed it. He was a burly looking black man wearing a wife beater, tattoos all over his arms, and a Raiders lanyard around his neck. He looked more like a gangster than a chaplain.

Eventually the bus temperature did cool down, and we were able to continue on our way, a little further down the road before it started overheating again. The entire trip there was this random couple, who showed very little interest in the temple, but a lot of interest in making out on the bus. Fortunately the second time it started overheating we were able to pull off at a gas station and actually get some water before the bus passengers started overheating.

When we again loaded back up and continued on our way it was getting into the evening and the temperature started dropping, so we were able to make it back without further incident. I loved the trip, even if I did come back hungry and sweaty, it was worth it.

Next weekend I'm going to petition for permission to go horseback riding.

Military Bearing

2011-08-05T20:44:00.000-07:00

It would seem that my company here is riddled with issues. A lot of people told me when I first got here that my 1st Sgt is a jerk, but so far that has not been my experience at all. In fact, I feel pretty confident that he'll do everything he can to keep working on things until all the little issues around here have been resolved. In the meantime we were getting ready for formation the other day when two of the platoon Sgts became involved in a verbal altercation and a third had to step in and physically restrain one of them from throwing a punch.

It was the most interesting thing that has happened since I got here. I almost wished that actual punches had been thrown, just for my own personal entertainment. Unfortunately it was all over very quickly and then I was rushed off to another boring detail assignment.

Fortunately 1st Sgt has said that he thinks he may be able to get us started on some early classes next week. I pray that he makes it happen. I hate these never ending details. I spent all day pulling weeds today. ALL DAY, but tomorrow they're letting me go with the LDS chaplain to the temple in Mesa. I can't wait, they're actually going to let me out in public!

Ft. Huachuca

2011-08-02T10:15:00.000-07:00

I have finally managed to escape the humidity of South Carolina and return to dry air and beautiful mountains. I'm in Ft. Huachuca, AZ and as far as the base goes, I LOVE it here. Unfortunately my classes don't start for quite some time, so I'm stuck here doing work details with "hold overs," who are generally bitter people who are waiting for a discharge from the Army. It does kind of make me hate life a little bit sometimes, but I figure if I can survive basic I'll make it through a few weeks of this. I also have to remind myself that this is infinetly better than being a hold over at Ft. Jackson, if for no other reason than it's not flat and humid here.

I really love it here. I saw a jack rabbit this morning, and last night caught a fat little toad on my way back to the barracks, which pretty much made my day. My battle buddy at the time was freaking out about it because we're not supposed to "mess with the wildlife," and she was vocalizing an irrational fear that the toad was going to secrete some kind of deadly poison. I am fine, my hands are fine, and if anything I consider the experience to be quite therapeutic. Being a hold under (early arrival) is really, really boring, so it was a nice to have something interesting happen.

Always Forward!

2011-07-29T06:09:00.000-07:00

Basic training is at last over. Apparently my brother Andrew who was posting my letters on here got a little behind and then just gave up on it all together. I'm sitting in the USO right now at the Columbia, SC airport still trying to believe that I am actually done and getting ready to leave for AIT.

Since my brother failed to post updates, if you weren't on the mailing list for my letters you pretty much missed out on reading about the rest of basic training, because it's too much for me to recap. I'll summarize by saying that I had a narrow escape with a doctor at the medical center, I threw a live hand grenade...two of them actually, shot a machine gun (which was pretty much one of the biggest highlights at basic), SUFFERED while living in an open bay with 57 other women, discovered that I fight with my eyes closed, got the biggest blisters on my feet that I have EVER had, almost went down as a heat casualty, became so sweaty that I took off my shirt, held it up and watched my sweat drip off of it (was not wringing it out or squeezing it), and lost way too much weight. It was fun a lot of the time, and miserable some of the time. Sometimes I really, really disliked my drill sergeants and wished harm on them, and then sometimes I liked them.

Now that it's behind me there's a small part of me that feels kind of sad, but not really sad enough to say that I'm sorry that it's over. Mostly I think it's just that you get so used to getting up before the sun, getting bossed around and barked at all day by the drill sgts for everything and nothing, eating the same things over and over and over again at the same times every day, and then going to bed with the sun that the idea of launching back into some personal freedoms just doesn't seem quite right. I feel like there should be someone here to monitor my every movement to make sure that I don't do anything stupid or break any rules, and there should probably be more rules. Seriously, the girl next to me here is on her third or fourth little bag of cheetos and we've only been here for an hour. Good luck to her on the next PT test.

My flight doesn't leave for another 8 hours, so I have all day to sit here and monitor the cheetos intake of the privates. :(

More Basic Training

2011-06-24T11:51:00.000-07:00

June 12, 2011

Dear Family,
We received an announcement yesterday that although we are stuck in red phase, we will be granted church privileges. All is well that ends well. A couple of other girls in my bay who are Baptist signed up to come with me because they don't hold Baptist services on this base. The Protestants are holding a "gospel concert" instead of services. The sign-up sheet for that is a mile long. It doesn't appeal to me at all, but to each their own.
Yesterday was our first day of combatives training. Thus far all that it has entailed is doing "warm-up" drills in a massive sandbox. Those warm-up drills are potentially the most brutal physical work out we've done since I got here. I was super sweaty and then rolling around in sand. Let's just say that hours afterwards I was still finding sand in my ears and hair. They have said that combatives will be set up by weight, so hopefully it doesn't go too poorly for me. I know that today one of the drill sgts. was watching me in the pit and came up and asked me what kind of exercises I had been doing before I got here. She just kind of nodded her head when I told her that I lifted weights and commented that "there's more muscle there than I guessed." So I'm hoping that most of the drill sgts feel that way since two of the others have made remarks about me getting really beat up during combatives.

I just got back from church services. It was so good to go to church. As soon as our drill sgt. was gone the missionaries came hustling up and the Elder and Sister were so happy to see us and find out which company we are from. The first things they said were "You have no idea how worried we've been about you. We've been trying to get you here for weeks. You know that it's not legal to refuse to let you attend services?" For some reason it felt really good to know that there were people there that were just as upset about us missing the meetings as we have been. I saw a bunch of guys from my RSP unit there. They said that they'd been looking for me for weeks and worried I'd missed my ship date. In the meantime the people from my platoon were baffled by the number of people there who knew me. I didn't even realize how many of them would be there. We had a full chapel and the missionaries were busy. My company brought 17 people to church and I think that only 5 of us are active members. I brought two girls from my platoon with me.

June 14, 2011
...we did platoon peer evaluations Sunday night where we were asked to list the 5 weakest soldiers in the platoon. Our drill sgt. collected the sheets and then read the stuff out loud. It was mostly the same 5 people over and over again. However, I was listed 6 or 7 times for "seems like she doesn't want to be here" mostly. This is because Drill Sgt. Scott loves to pick on me and say things like "Black! You look like you're ready to quit. Are you ready to quit? I''m not sure you're going to make it, Black!" I also got listed once saying that I seem like I'm sick all the time. Even the Drill Sgt looked confused when she read that one. Anyway, I felt a little disheartened at first, even though I'm positive that my Drill Sgts don't think I'm really going to quit or don't want to finish this. My squad and a lot of the privates who know me came up to me afterwards to let me know that there wasn't any reason for me to be on that list and that people just hear the drill sgt. say stuff and assume that I am a problem. Drill Sgt. Scott did find out the other day that I'm not scheduled to go to OCS and that I am staying as enlisted for awhile at least. He hates officers and he's lightened up a tiny, very tiny bit since finding out that I'm not on an immediate track to be one of them.

June 15, 2011
Scratch that. DS Scott has not lightened up at all. It was just the calm before the storm. He was all over my case yesterday evening. I couldn't breathe right. He told me I was weak, weird and lazy. So nothing new. He says that stuff to me all the time. His insults just came with greater frequency yesterday evening. Both of our drill sergeants had the day off today though, so I think I only got barked at once or twice by the fill-in guy.
We've been spending a lot of time at the ranges lately. I love the shooting, but I've been struggling getting a feel for it. It's a long story that I'm too tired to write out, but essentially there have been some real fiascos when it came to zeroing and such. Tomorrow we'll try to qualify and I'm quite concerned. I wish that Glen were here to help me figure this out. The drill sgts. are not especially helpful at all. In fact, the truth is, they're half the problem.
Still in red phase but it seems like the behavior of some of the other platoons has started to improve. Hopefully I will get to call home soon. I'm hoping for this weekend, but we shall see.

Basic Training continued...

2011-06-24T11:46:00.000-07:00

May 23, 2011
We had our first PT test today. It wasn't even a full test though. Only 1-minute pushups and situps and then the two-mile run. I still passed pushups and the run, but came up short on the situps, but close enough that I will be fine when we do a full test with two minutes. The run was weird, I don't get out of breath but it was already 90 degrees by 7 am and I have never been so sweaty before in my life. I'm considered high risk for a heat injury because I just came from a cold climate and I burn easily. So I have to wear a little string of bright red beads indicating how many quarts of water I've had in a day. We all wear the beads, but the high risk folks have red beads and get questioned very closely about the accuracy of my beads. We're doing a road march tomorrow out to the rappelling tower and it's supposed to be 108 degrees. The good news is that the heat makes my feet swell a little and I can't wedge them into my boots, but they haven't had time to take me down to be refitted so I get to wear tennis shoes. There is nothing about that that makes me sad. I lost track of the pushups today, but I believe it wound up at 137, I'm not positive though. I'm hoping for a much lower count tomorrow. Today's should have been higher, but I kind of performed at such a low standard for some of them that I didn't think I should count them.

I laughed in formation again tonight. I got caught, but it made Drill Sgt. Scott laugh too so he had to walk away and cover his face. He was trying to straighten the formation and some Hispanic private was standing so close to the guy in front of him that I didn't think it was possible for him to be any closer, but when the Drill came over to straighten the formation, he told the kid to fix his spacing and he inched so close that he was pressed up against the guy in front, which is when I laughed and the drill sergeant had to just leave him like that.

May 24, 2011
We just got back from the tower. One side you climb up and down on ropes, which isn't so hard, but freaked me out because there were specific instructions about how to fall into the net safely and I was completely lacking confidence in my ability to follow those instructions. So I had a death grip on the rope the whole time. The rappelling went okay. I actually thought that once I figured it out that it was pretty fun.

My feet have swollen to record proportions, so the drill Sgts think I should go to sick call tomorrow. I went today after the tower, but they said it wasn't urgent and to come back again tomorrow. There was a TV at sick call. It was weird hearing the news and music again for a minute.

Another fight broke out in the bay tonight and ended with one private shrieking at another that she's got goggle eyes (which she does) and the goggle eyes girl collapsed on the ground sobbing. She was able to rally and got herself back into formation before the drill sgt showed up for the head count.

Tomorrow we do PT and then apparently there will be days and days on end of classes. I'm hoping at sick call tomorrow that they hook me up with some compression socks or something and turn me loose. I'll let you know I'm sure. Love you all!

Julie
P.S. Didn't do a single push-up today. Sgt. Scott pulled me out of morning PT to help set up stuff for the road march.

May 27, 2011

We ended up doing the infamous obstacle course today. The first part was pretty boring, mostly a lot of standing around while some people made themselves louder and bossier in an attempt to prove their leadership skills. It generally ended with us failing every obstacle we attempted. The second part is just a speed race through the woods from one obstacle to the next. Stuff like hurdling walls, climbing rope ladders, low crawling and rolling in the dirt under fences. Drill Sgt. Scott is super competitive so he pretty much demanded that our platoon win, which we did. It was so hot outside that I think it is the sweatiest I have ever been in my life. Sweaty and covered head to toe in dirt. As soon as we finished the course a thunderstorm started and it has been raining on and off since. We came back, showered, and got our first lesson on taking apart our M-16s. Apparently there were other obstacles we were going to do but the 1st Sgt. called it a day. People here are weirdly uptight about lightening.

I also got lectured today because Drill Sgt. Scott says he can tell I daydream in formation and I need to be more aware of my surroundings. Honestly, I have no idea how he can tell, it's not like I'm screwing up or missing his commands. Whatever.

I'm headed to bed now, I had fire guard last night with possibly the most annoying woman I have ever met. She's dumb, but has a comment to make about everything. Talks in this strange nasally whine, and does not brush her teeth.....ever. She does not own a toothbrush. Then right after PT she'll come up to talk to me, invade my personal space and pant right in my face. It's worse than getting chewed out by a drill sgt. Anyway that's who I started my day off with at 2:40 this morning.

Love you all. Hope everyone is doing good.

Love Jule
P.S. 85 pushups today

May 29, 2011

Dear Family,
135 pushups yesterday, another 85 today, more might still be coming, but I have my fingers crossed that it won't come to that. Tomorrow will be dreadful since an officer came by to do a bedcheck and found some girl soaking her feet, another one got caught with an anklet on (contraband), the girl on fireguard was cruising around the room visiting with people, someone came darting out of the shower half dressed, in front of a male drill sgt. (who was really embarassed and let out a string of profanities on his way back to the doorway), and two minutes after they left this place has turned back into party central. I thought for sure they'd circle back for another visit, but apparently not. They also had some girl on fireguard count all the weapons. It took her three times to finally produce the correct count of 59 weapons, and not because there were any missing. Another person is dropping out. She got tested for anemia and is being sent home. Why they don't just treat her for it is a mystery to pretty much everyone. Another girl is getting a bone scan done for some mysterious hip pains tomorrow. Our drill sgt. is pretty much convinced she's gone. Two other ladies are on profile, meaning they can't participate in any PT and will either be recycled or discharged if that doesn't change very soon. Also three separate women admitted to me today that they want out and will jump on the chance to get a medical discharge if the opportunity arises. Very weird. I think a lot of it is because the last day or two we've all been attending a training class called Combat Life Saver. It's combat first-aid which is pretty much completely unlike any other first-aid class I've ever attended. You're talking about using hemostatic dressing to plug up arteries, tying tourniquets on any bloody wound while under fire and reassessing the need for a tourniquet later, what to do for someone with a collapsed lung, blast trauma, and my favorite, telling your wounded battle buddy to tie their own tourniquet and then play dead while you continue to lay down suppressive fire. It's all very interesting and made even more so by the fact that the drill sgt. instructing the class was a combat medic in Iraq until he himself took a bullet in the femoral artery and was saved by "combat gauze". He has crazy disturbing stories and actual footage from a camera on his helmet, it's weird watching people go down and he just keeps shooting and you can hear him yelling over there trying to figure out how bad the injury is to the casualty. Then he finishes off his presentation telling us that his MOS was some radio repair person and he never thought he'd be in combat, but I guess that's pretty much all he did on deployments. So now everybody wants to quit. Of course, his slide show of combat wounds doesn't help.

In other news, our platoon is finally starting to get mail. I hope someone has sent something. We are all jealous of the people that got letters from home. One of the married guys was so happy about getting his wife's letter that he started crying before he even had it opened.

It's a weird feeling being here all isolated and without communication. I think we all feel a little worry that we've been forgotten somehow. Some of the younger girls especially are not holding up so well in that respect. I feel the worst for the mothers. A few of them cry themselves to sleep every night. Our platoon has it the worst, or that is the general concensus throughout the bay. I think there are 10 of us in 4th platoon and we are the only ones who have not been promised phone calls home, our PT is much, much harder and our drill sgts. alway find some extra way to punish us for mistakes. Right now we don't get time to do laundry, forcing us to use the 3rd party service which is questionable as to when your laundry will be returned. We have not been allowed to go to the PX at all, and they decided to extend our red phase out which means we still don't get to go to church, since some idiot in another company "went to church" and got busted at a Burger King off base, so now the Battalion Commander says no church until after red phase. At least the Mormon boys are in the same boat for now and still holding our little pseudo services. I found out today the guy that organized it all is actually the son of Pres. Parker, my stake president in Huntington Beach. Small world when you're a Mormon. I'm off to bed, had quite a workout when someone passed gas during land navigation classes. Drill Sgt. Scott warned us never to do it, because he can't stand it, but some selfish guy in our platoon let one rip and we all paid the price for the next 45 minutes. He said to consider it a "warning".

Basic Training

2011-05-29T16:32:00.000-07:00

Here is Julia's address at basic training, so please write! Also included are a few segments from her letter home.

SPC Black, Julia A.
4th Platoon, Wolf Pack
E Co., 1-34th in Regt, 165th in BDE
5500 Marion Ave.
Ft. Jackson, SC 29207-6019

May 19, 2011
Got tired and fell asleep on the flight in, so I’ll have to skip ahead. We got delayed coming in and didn’t get to Columbia, SC until almost seven and Ft. Jackson until 8:30. They didn’t let us go straight to bed, instead they continued processing until almost 1 am and then announced that our wake-up time would be at 3:30 am. Unbeknownst to any of us, 2 ½ hours of sleep was really optimistic. They crank the AC up and run it all night until the entire barracks are freezing cold and then tell you to sleep in shorts and a t-shirt. I think I managed to get 45 minutes that night. The next day was possibly the longest day of my entire life. All day we trooped around the reception area to stand in another line, always strategically placed under an AC vent to keep us awake. It was pretty much non-stop until 9 pm that night and then they finally shipped us off to bed. I slept in the winter gear they gave us and actually managed to sleep. Today they’ve started to crack down on us a little. A very little bit. They don’t want us to get hurt before we ship from reception to basic, so we don’t do any PT. Most of the other girls kind of suck. Loud, crude, angry, immature and selfish. Not all of them are though, so I find the best policy to be to just kind of lie low. Limit my interactions. I figure it’s only a matter of time before a BIG fight breaks out. Right now they’re all friends, but a couple of girls have already started snapping at each other in formation. There’s also a communal shower and a lot of the girls will go stand under the water and soak while everyone in line is watching.

A few amusing incidents thus far: I have narrowly escaped having to wear the infamously hideous “birth control glasses.” When we did the eye exam here I went kind of brain dead and pushed my hand against the eye I was covering, which was then too blurry to see anything of of, so I was routed into a separate room for an exam. They determined that I have a slight issue with my left eye, but the lady said it was my choice whether or not I wear glasses, since the shooting range would be the only time it might prove to be problematic. If it is, I can come back then and get some.

1st Day of Basic 5/20/2011
The first day of basic is NOT fun. The first thing we did after we got off of the bus is race down a hill to a cement area called the drill pad and then run in place with our bags over our heads while the drill SGTs gather around and scream insults and swear at you. You hear a lot of stuff like “crazy, weak, female!” Followed by a string of profanities. Then they split you up into platoons and send most of us off to the barracks but my platoon leader started us off with pushups followed by more pushups. Although I noticed right away that our female SGT is less fond of the f word than most, and the male doesn’t use it. He told us later he doesn’t curse, doesn’t like it, won’t tolerate it from us. Talk about a rapid answer to prayer I guess. Our drill Sgt appears to be the physically hardest on his platoon but I guess if that’s what I have to do to make it through, so be it.

One girl from another platoon tried to quit today. She got hauled off for some private consultation and now appears to be back in the saddle.

Also they took my phone and searched our bags, everyone but mine. Drill Sgt. Scott came by, stared at my Book of Mormon for a minute, asked if I had contraband, and then kind of looked at things for a second and moved on. Everyone else’s stuff got pulled out, inspected very carefully.

Spoke Too Soon-Day #2 5/21/2011
I will be reporting to ophthalmology sick call on Monday morning. My drill Sgt insists I get the glasses so I can have them on hand, if needed.
Today thins eased up a lot. 50 pushups today, but the abs got kind of crazy tired from getting smoked today because some of the girls apparently have poor personal hygiene. Let’s be honest, though, hygiene here isn’t exactly a priority when you have 60 women showering under 6 shower heads inside of 15 minutes or less, it’s in and out, barely get wet.

We got our M-16s today, but I think we won’t actually be firing them for some time. Right now we’re trying to master not pointing them at each other, which is not going well at all. It’s a hard concept for some of these people.

May 22, 2011
It’s only 11 am and so far today we’re up to 203 pushups, but I’m pretty sure that there are a lot more coming. I got up this morning and was going to take my church hour to clean the bay (our room in the barracks) but one of the Protestant girls was freaking out because she didn’t have a battle buddy (ours are not assigned, we’re just not allowed to be alone) to go down for early chow so that she could get to her services. I volunteered to go with her and when we got back we had 30 minutes or so to kill before services. Everyone in the bay was standing around saying stuff like “What? What’s LSD?, What religion is THAT?! I think it’s Mormons or something.” I asked a couple of girls what they were talking about and they said I had just missed an announcement that some “LSD Private” in bay two is holding services but you need permission from a drill sgt. My female drill was here and all too eager to grant permission provided there would be at least two men and I could get two of the girls to come with me to drop me off. Someone reported that there were a bunch of men, which turned out to be a gross exaggeration. There were 5 of us and an investigator, so we ended up holding a first discussion. We weren’t able to go anywhere private but one of the drill Sgts said we got screwed over on Sunday services, so he would authorize us to sit at a picnic table outside. We just had to keep standing up at parade rest everytime another drill Sgt walked by us. They also announced that we will be authorized to attend one hour of regular services next Sunday.

There was also a physical altercation at final formation tonight, but the two girls were physically restrained and separated before the Drill Sgt showed up for the personnel/weapons count. They asked us to be in flip-flops for final formation tonight and then the Drill in charge of the counts came in and checked us for toenail polish. I had some on……wasted 20 minutes in the latrine tonight chipping it all off. Sometimes the Drill Sgts say the most hilarious stuff in formation and it takes everything I have not to burst out laughing. Twice I’ve not managed to keep it in check. The first time was when they told a girl to fix her hair because it looked like a squirrel was jumping out of the back of her head and then tonight when he got to the last girl and she is a black girl with black polish on her toes. He said (edited) “Holy Cow! Your toes are BLACK! That’s just not natural. Well……obviously your toes are going to be black. I was talking more about the toe nails.” At which point I lost it and three or four others followed. I think he was secretly pleased though, so there was no punishment.

On a mission...

2011-05-08T09:29:00.000-07:00

I'm in the final countdown until I leave now. I have seven days left from today, so the mission from here on out is to cram in as much fun as possible before departure. My last day of work was Friday, so no work will help out.

I actually felt compelled to start a little bit early with my mission to maximize fun. Last Monday I called in sick, and instead took Thor and Winnie to the zoo, and Jake met us there with Erica. Tuesday I took a step back by having to devote my evening to traffic school to clear up a little ticket I received a while back. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, there was some guy in there that was kind of crazy, and while I was forced to question his mental stability, I was also grateful to have his contributions. He made the class time go by much faster than it would have gone otherwise. There was also a lady in the back of the class who appeared to have had way too much plastic surgery done on her face that was actively competing with him for the title of traffic school crazy person. I think in the end the crazy guy won out when he started telling us about how he returned to the site of his ticket to try and find the cop who issued it and confront said police officer about some unspecified lingering question he had about the ticket.

Wednesday however completely made up for traffic school since Cousin Dorian took me out horseback riding. I LOVED it! My only previous experience on a horse was on a half dead looking mare in Hawaii that kept leering back at me in a funny kind of way that made me paranoid that she was going to bite me. I reassured myself that there was no way that they would put a stupid tourist on a horse that bites...not true folks. At the end of the ride the "guide" asked me if I'd been bitten yet because she bites all her riders. I finished the last portion of the ride terrified that any minute she would whirl back and chomp down on my leg. Thankfully my ride with Dorian went much better. I rode a very large horse named Beavis who was a very good natured animal, and relatively obedietn. He did seem to have a certain affinity towards walking really close to a barbed wire fence if I didn't watch him, and would periodically decide on his own that it was time to start heading back to the ranch. On one occasion he did actually get turned all the way around and started heading out in the wrong direction before I figured out how to get him back in compliance with my wishes to proceed to the top of a little mountain. On the way back he kept breaking into an unauthorized trot, and then of course once I wanted him to trot he acted all resistant. Still, on the whole he was very obedient, and I suspect that his brief periods of bad behavior can be attributed to rider error. Either way, I loved it, and I want to go again.

Saturday I went shooting out on the other side of the lake, and was again reminded why I love Utah. I like the desert, and I like to shoot guns in the desert. It was perfect weather for it, and even Utah lake look oddly clean and blue.

So now the question is what I can come up with to do this week that's going to be even more fun than last week. Let me know if you have any ideas, I have only 7 days to enjoy my personal freedoms before I turn them in to the US Army.

Final Drill

2011-04-16T20:51:00.000-07:00

First day of my final drill before basic was today. I scored my highest PT scores yet, weighed in heavier than I did last month, and instead of freezing to death this month I walked away with a bright red sunburn. Definitely wearing sunscreen tomorrow. It wasn't all that different from last month's drill. There was still a lot of running around the armory with our fake weaponry, bolting down cold MRE's for chow, and somewhere towards the mid-afternoon everybody seems funnier the more and more tired I get. People that were stupid and corny in the morning are really kind of amusing by the end of the day.

I also think that it's worth noting that I did carry a man on my shoulders today. Now, granted it was a man who is only slightly heavier than myself, and it was for a relatively short distance, and I did express quite a bit of uncertainty as to my abilities when the cadet first proposed the idea, but he insisted that I attempt it. As it turns out I can actually heft a small man up on my shoulders and pack him around a bush and back to the squad. It's not something I want to do every day.

Drill #3

2011-03-28T20:39:00.001-07:00

Blogger is misbehaving and I can't figure out how to fix this so it has paragraphs again. Still working on that: My third RSP drill was this last weekend. I was very proud of myself this month because I weighed in 13 lbs. heavier than last, which is above my ship weight, and I also increased my PT scores a little bit. I have 7 lbs. left to go before I'm where I want to be before I ship. I feel like I need to add a little bit more extra just so I have a some reserves in case they work a bunch of weight off of me at basic. We only had to run one mile on Saturday because it was freezing cold outside with kind of a crazy wind. SFC Dixon is in charge of drill, and after one mile he called it and had us all run back to the armory to get on with the rest of the day. There is a freeze on enlistments right now, so we had no new soldiers this month and that being the case they decided to have us do field exercises all day instead of classroom stuff. It's better in that it's much more fun and interesting, it's worse in that it's also a bit more tiring. We did a lot of marching around in the mud outside with our fake weapons pretending to annihilate our enemies. They also handed out MRE's for lunch, and then took away the heaters, so we ate them cold, and we only got 15 minutes or so to eat them. I'm glad we did it though, because from now on I know to start with the thing in there that has the most calories and just start shovelling it down as fast as possible. Sunday morning we did the "warm up exercises" and then SFC Dixon made us run the full two miles as a company. I will never love running, I'm certain of this, but I think I may have hit a little break through. Let's just say that towards the end of the run a few of the guys started walking, and I really wanted to be one of them. I had pretty much made up my mind that I would be one of them, when SFC Dixon started yelling at all the guys who were walking to get in the van and ride back to the armory. I had to abandoned all plans to stop running right there because I'd rather run until I collapsed then quit and get in that van. I finished the run, I was at the back of the company, but I didn't stop, and I'm glad because I wasn't at all certain I was capable until I had actually done it. So I give myself a little pat on the back for seeing that one through to the end. After that we had to play some game of tag inside that was fun until my leg muscles couldn't keep up with my head anymore, and I bit it on the gym floor, which I believe to be cement. It happened so fast that there wasn't much time to feel much pain. I did wind up with bloody knees and today they have also turned very unattractive shades of black and blue, but other than that I seem to have escaped unscathed. We had MRE's for lunch again, and spent a good portion of the day learning how to clear a room, and then went back outside for more field exercises. Here are a couple of pictures from the event: This is a picture of my group getting ready to try yet again to successfully clear a room. We kind of sucked at it if the truth be told.

This is a picture of me, (only you can't see my face) trying to figure out how I'm supposed to roll over this guy to try and do a dead search. After a lot of tugging I finally got him rolled over but by then even my dead person was laughing.

This one was taken during our field exercises, and although I don't look like I know what's going on, I am fairly certain that in this particular instance that I actually did know what was happening.

...or perhaps I shouldn't be laughing...

2011-03-16T19:48:00.000-07:00

I kind of love this little job I have right now. Mostly because there is no script, and I'm at liberty to ask the people whatever questions I deem necessary. Like today for instance, when the lady told me that she'd had a stroke, I asked her what that was like. Not because it was at all relevant to her application, but because I was curious about what it felt like. She told me that her stroke took place over the course of a few days. She had to go to the store to purchase a neck brace to hold her head up straight so she could watch TV at the proper angle, surprisingly she endured a few days of television viewing with the neck brace before she deemed her condition serious enough to warrant a visit to the Dr.'s office. I laughed at her when she was telling me that, and she laughed too, but I'm not sure that she knew why we were laughing.

I also laughed outloud at the guy who told me he dated a girl in college who said that she'd filed his taxes for him, and then pocketed the money he'd given her to pay what he owed. He did not laugh with me, and I ended up apologizing for laughing, but then laughed again when he admitted that she'd done it to him two years in a row.

I also love to ask the convicts why they were incarcerated. I just throw in "and what were those charges sir?" and then move on with the rest of my questions as though it were all part of what they're required to divulge to me. Mostly I get a lot of assault and battery type people.

I also love asking people to describe their disease and ailments in great detail to me. They're usually more than happy to oblige, and will tell me more than I could even think to ask.

Oh, and I also love it when the people with mental ailments want to talk to me about why they were fired from their previous jobs. "Well they fired me after I threatened to kill my coworker," or "I got fired because sometimes I would have an anxiety attack when I felt there were too many people in the office." It's the most interesting job I have ever had.

Game over, back to work

2011-02-28T23:11:00.000-08:00

My second drill was this weekend. I thought it went much better than the first one, probably because my prayers were answered and it snowed Saturday morning. We don't run in the snow. Instead we stayed in the gym and endured alternate forms of aerobic exercise that were not nearly as tortuous as running. I worked out a lot more this month, so my PT scores went up for push-ups and sit-ups, and then I paid for it by falling below my minimum ship weight. So I've some eating to do in order to get caught up and still be able to keep my scores increasing. I guess it's a balancing act, and right now I'm wobbling.

We learned cool things at drill this weekend, like how to frisk a POW. Although, I'll be the first to admit that I wasn't about to frisk the inner thighs of one of the guys...the joys of being the only female in the squad. I started at the knees and worked down. We also learned some land navigation stuff, and also everyone else had the pleasure of observing while SFC Dixon demonstrated techniques that smaller soldiers, such as Specialist Black, can use to hopefully free themselves from the grasp of an enemy attacker, such as Private Blackburn.

The rest was kind of the same old boring drill and ceremony stuff, and of course the dreaded Sunday morning workout. On Sunday we were all standing around in our squads waiting for the Sgt.'s to arrive for first formation. One of the new guys asked what sort of PT we would be doing, and someone else looked at him and responded "just be prepared to have hell unleashed on you." Although for some reason it didn't seem nearly as bad as last month, and I'm still trying to decide if that's just because they decided to go easier on us this time or what.

Either way, work this morning seemed really lame in comparison.

"My Disability is..."

2011-02-22T21:26:00.001-08:00

I got the legal assistant job, and so far I really like it. I'm not going to pretend that it's the greatest job I've ever had, or that the pay is spectacular, but it's entertaining, I don't feel like I'm perpetually deceiving people, and I don't have to stand in one spot all day while I stick stickers on things, so I think I've been making steady improvement here.

For this job I help people determine if they're eligible for Social Security disability and help them fill out their claim forms. I spoke with a guy this afternoon who called to find out if he was eligible because he was in prison for the last 25 years, and his disability is "violence." He said that he is currently receiving treatment in an Anger Management program. I had to tell him that unless a doctor could provide him with an actual diagnosis of a medical problem that he wasn't qualified. He started getting really upset about it, which I admit made me a tiny bit nervous.

The part that I find to be a little odd is the number of people who are divorced, and struggle to remember really basic facts about their former spouse, like where they were born, how long the two of them were married, and one guy even had to stop and think about it for a few minutes before he could remember his ex-wife's maiden name. You were married to this person, how can you not remember her last name? I don't get it, he claimed to not be on drugs.

Working an Internet Scam

2011-02-17T16:33:00.001-08:00

In my continual search for employment that will sustain me for the next three months (my job at the sticker factory ended prematurely) I recently accepted a job working as a customer service representative at a call center. By "recently," I mean yesterday I did training, and today was my first day on the job.

The training I received yesterday was subpar to say the very least. It was about 45 minutes, and the "trainer" left the room multiple times to go address other issues during that 45 minutes. I don't feel that I would be exaggerating to say that I spent an equal amount of time fillingout paperwork for the job as I did actually getting trained for the job.

I showed up this morning not knowing really what the product was that these customers would be calling about, much less how to work the computer system. I was assigned to work with some guy named John who repeatedly reassured me that the best way to learn would be to just start taking calls. It was definitely an interesting approach, and the thing I learned right off the bat is that I was providing "customer service" for an internet scheme. The vast majority of callers were trying to get a refund, and my job is to talk them out of it. I'm not sure what was more disturbing, the fact that I was sort of participating in an internet scam, or that I seemed to be really good at it.

Towards the end of the day I talked to a woman who broke down and cried because she couldn't figure out how to make the product turn a profit (surprise, surprise) and is in desperate financial straits. The worst was the old couple though that were investing hours trying to figure out how to make it work. That's when I told the lady that hired me that I wasn't sure I could continue to work this job because I was supposed to be convincing them that it's not a scam, and frankly I think that it is a scam. She didn't seem angry or surprised, just said something rather non-committal about seeing what she could do about moving me to a different project.

I got home and got a call for an interview tomorrow morning working as a legal assistant. I'm calling in sick tomorrow, and keeping my fingers crossed that something else presents itself very soon, because I don't think I can continue to work an internet scam. The weird part is that everyone else there acknowledges that they're working for an internet scam, and none of them seem to be bothered by it. Maybe that's what happens if you stay there long enough.

Six Years

2011-02-15T19:58:00.000-08:00

I moved to South Provo for my few remaining months in Utah before they ship me off to basic. I like it. In fact, I like it better than I thought that I would. Now that I'm in an area and ward with a lot of other "midsingles," I get to meet a lot of new people. Prior to this little move I decided that I wasn't going to tell these people I had enlisted.

That plan very quickly backfired. I have discovered that most people feel comfortable asking some very pointed questions about my employment situation, and I was left with the option of either saying that:
a. I was working at the sticker factory, and then coming off looking like I see nothing wrong with being a college graduate who has resigned themselves to that sort of labor, or

b. admitting to having a bigger goal. I don't have so much pride that I won't work those kinds of jobs, but I do have too much to let people think that's all I ever intend to do with my life. When I admit to the bigger goal they want to know what kind of work I'm looking for, or what else it is I've got going on, and I eventually always break down and admit to having enlisted.

Once the cat is out of the bag two things inevitably happen, the person kind of shuts down and I can see that they no longer have interest in getting to know me personally. I believe this to be true in all instances, and particularly true, or perhaps just more obvious, when the other person is a man. However, the person also inevitably feels a need to ask a series of questions about my impending military service. Most of the questions are pretty easy to answer, the "when are you leaving, where are you going, how long is basic, what is your job going to be in the military?" I'm fine with those, but the question that I truly, truly hate is when they ask me what made me decide to enlist. I feel like I've yet to produce an answer that is satisfactory, and I probably feel that way because the next questions tends to be something like, "well is it something that you've just always wanted to do?" They look all shot down and confused when I tell them that it isn't. I'm beyond the point where I care what they think about me for doing this. Generally speaking, people aren't very good about hiding their judgment on the matter, be it good or bad (and don't get me wrong, sometimes it really is good), and it's written all over their faces the minute I tell them. My favorite part is when they're done talking to me and they finish things off with "well, good luck with that," said in a sort of doubtful tone.

I have yet to figure out a way to navigate this topic of conversation effectively. I hope I learn, or it could be a really long six years.

One Drill Weekend Down

2011-01-23T19:50:00.000-08:00

The second day of drill pretty much made the first day feel like a walk in the park. It was the hardest workout I have ever endured. Ever. I've never wanted to quit something so bad and at the same time felt so determined not to quit. I think it was two hours this morning. I'm not positive, it might have been longer, but I'm positive that it wasn't one minute shorter. Towards the end it started to feel like torture, but then they yell stuff to you about earning the right to be an American soldier and that gets you through it.

I got yelled at a lot by one SGT who was always shouting stuff at me like "BLACK! PASS THAT GUY! BEAT HIM!" or "BLACK! GET YOUR FEET UP!" and "BLACK! LIFT YOUR HEAD UP OFF THE DECK!" As a result everyone in the company knows my name. He told me after drill though that he thought I did pretty well. I feel like I need to do better next month though. I definitely have my work cut out for me. So even though it sucks, in the end it's kind of rewarding to be done with it and feel like I accomplished something more than just surviving the experience.

Once PT was behind us we got to shower and then come back and do drill and ceremony stuff which I would ordinarily think was really boring, but after the PT exercises that morning anything that didn't require a lot of physical exertion was a welcome relief. We did that until lunch at which time I was shouted out by a different SGT because he's the recruiter at BYU and wanted to know why I used a different recruiter. He then sent me to the back of the line because I screwed up and walked in the wrong position. Fortunately I only got sent back once.

After lunch there was more formation, and then things started to wind down. We had a meeting in the classroom, cleaned the armory, and then everyone met back in the classroom to have a "shipper's orientation meeting," where people's family comes and they give a presentation on what it's going to be like when the recruit ships to basic, and answers family questions, and resolves concerns. There's another one in April, so I told my family to not worry about coming to this one.

As one SGT pointed out, it's kind of weird to think that someone paid me to do all that PT, while other people are forking over money to personal trainers, and not getting pushed nearly that hard. It's a terrible experience, but it feels so good to actually do it. Next month I'll do it even better.

Day One Down

2011-01-22T19:45:00.001-08:00

I completed my first day of drill today. I loved it and hated it all at the same time. I hated that I had to get there before the sun was up, but once the day got started I was over it. There were bigger things to worry about, mostly trying to figure out how and where I was supposed to stand during first formation to avoid drawing too much attention to myself. I did okay with that.

Then we had to do a PT test, which went pretty well I suppose. Push-ups and sit-ups aren't exactly a party, but I do okay with those. Well enough that nobody gets on my case. It's the dreaded running that gets me. We had to go out and run 2 miles in what one of the Sergeants described as "beautiful" weather. Cold and windy is the description that I would use, but since nobody asked me, or really cared what I thought of the weather conditions I found myself out there running in the freezing cold, and wanting to take my own life part way through my second mile. I did walk for a quarter of a mile or so there at the end, and then finally decided to just get the torture over with, and finished in a dead sprint, which seemed to really please the SGT's. Unfortunately for the guy right behind me he attempted a reverse tactic and took off like a shot at the very beginning, and then crapped out and walked in the last half mile or so and was greeted at the finish line by a SGT who went into a screaming frenzy.

After the run I kind of thought I was going to die when they made us run in formation and cadence all the way back to the Armory. It was really cold, and we were so hot that you could literally see the steam coming up off of everyone. After that it was back to formation, and then we had to go get weighed and measured and do some pull-ups before they dismissed us for a few minutes to the showers. I was running down the hall to get back to formation, and zipping up my blouse on my way when I got spotted by a SGT who yelled at me to "never leave the latrine like that again." I think that was the only time I got yelled at today.

Some of the guys didn't make it back into formation in time and we all had to get into position to do push-ups and then just stay there balanced on our toes and hands until everyone was back in formation. The guys were probably 5 minutes late, but I swear it felt like an hour. It kind of made me wonder why they bothered to have us shower at all.

We stayed in formation for a bit, and then split up into classes based on how many times you've attended drill. The first half of the class was pretty routine stuff, teaching us about ranks, pay grades, etc. We stayed there until lunch.

At lunch they lined us up and while we were standing in line the squad leaders came around and asked us questions. If you can't answer correctly you get sent to the back of the line. I fortunately managed to get my questions right and never got sent to the back. I thought the food was fantastic. I know I'm not a picky eater, but I really thought it was good, however a bunch of the guys sitting by me only ate half of their food because they felt that it wasn't meeting their standards. Good luck to them in basic.

Once lunch was finished we cleaned up, fell back into formation for a few minutes and then returned to the classroom. One of the SGT's made us stand with our arms held out parallel to the floor for a few minutes, until they started to burn, and then made us do the claps over our head until I felt like my arms were going to fall off, and then he made us stand there for another few minutes with them straight out, the whole time saying things like "who's going to quit first? Who wants to go home and tell their family that they couldn't cut it today?" I wanted to quit, but there was no way I was going to quit, because I sensed that they'd just make me do something else terrible as punishment. It was actually a very painful experience, and I sense that I'll be repeating it sometime in the near future.

When class was over we all met back together for a brief award ceremony for people who over acheived on their PT test, then back to formation, and finally dismissed. It was 9 hours, but they keep you so busy that it felt like a much shorter day.

We were given parting instructions reminding us that we are on military orders until Sunday night, so not to do anything stupid tonight, and to be back in formation at 0745, wearing PT gear and ready for more PT, and with that off to bed I go, and I pray that I can move my arms for tomorrow's fun and games.

Cleared up

2011-01-15T13:55:00.000-08:00

I've had a cold for a few weeks, but now that it's gone I've discovered that one of my coworkers has bear breath. It turns out that there was a real upside to walking around congested all day.

Stickers

2011-01-10T20:18:00.000-08:00

When people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up I never once thought to myself "I'd really like to stick stickers on bottles in a large warehouse full of strange people," and yet these days I find myself dragging out of bed early every morning to go do just that. It's the temp job I've found to keep myself busy and the funds from reaching critical levels until I leave for basic training.

It's really not so bad. The people keep it interesting. I feel pretty certain that my supervisor hates me. She doesn't have authority to fire me, and I haven't done anything to warrant dismissal, so I don't care. I only started to sense her distaste for me when the first day she made an error (stuck some of the stickers on upside down), and then pinned the blame on me by saying things like "I don't want you to feel bad about this. Everyone makes mistakes, and you're brand new here, so I just don't want you feeling guilty about not doing this right." Since I hadn't been at all involved in the sticking of those stickers it really hadn't even occurred to me to feel bad, or guilty. I decided not to bother protesting or correcting her, and elected to remain silent.

The next day one of my coworkers made an error (this time the stickers were crooked) and over his loud declarations that he was the culprit of the crooked stickers, she announced to the team that I needed to be moved to another sticker duty because I wasn't cutting it in my current position. I again elected to remain silent and report to my new sticker station. Later that day she made an error that I felt compelled to point out, since it was sort of a huge mistake. Let's just say that after consulting her calculator to confirm that 11 rows of 8 boxes does in fact equal 88 boxes, rather than 99, she told a coworker in Spanish (because she erroneously assumes that I can't understand her) that I should no longer be allowed to package the products up because I make too many errors. The thing is sometimes I think I should maybe say something, or defend myself a little, but I really just can't seem to care enough to bother with it. I've decided there are very few things I can't do when there's a light at the end of my tunnel. My days at the sticker factory are numbered, so if telling people I suck at sticking stickers on bottles, and packaging products makes her day, why bother fighting it?

The crooked sticker guy is outraged by the whole thing, and told me that some day he's going to come to work and warn me to leave the building so he can burn the place down. He's also told me that every day he wants to stab our supervisor with his little utility knife. I guess I should just be glad I'm on his good side.

I also take my breaks with an odd little group of men. One has taken to talking incesssantly about his desire to live in Orange County so he can surf, but also fears that he will never get married because he hates Orange County women. Although from what I can gather he isn't too fond of Utah women either. He says we're not "real." I say "we" because ladies, I'm pretty sure he thinks that women in general aren't "real." Then there's our buddy with the chipped tooth, and tatted up arms who announced during lunch the first day that "I'm really not a good person." After telling me all about his most recent stay at the county jail over today's lunch break he told me that he does not actually consider himself to be a bad person. To be honest I'm not sure why he shares this stuff with me, but it sure makes lunch a lot more interesting.

Despite these little adventures at the sticker factory, the most exciting moment of 2011 thus far was tonight when I saw Kody and second wife Janelle from Sister Wives at Barnes & Noble. I stared, Kody saw me staring, I didn't stop staring.

Specialist Black

2010-12-01T17:11:00.001-08:00

Monday morning I went back to MEPS to finally complete my enlistment. I had to get there at 6am, and sit around in the medical center for hours. Literally, hours. Then finally with a group of other ladies we got hearded into the exam room to once again strip down the underwears and have a doctor come in and take our weight, height, and look us over for any new injuries or tattoos. Two of the girls were supposed to ship that day to basic, pretty sure one of them didn't ship because of a severe foot issue, severe enough that I have no idea how she cleared her first physical. The Dr. went nuts making little notations in her file, and then said they needed to have some sort of private consultation.

I got dismissed for the medical center, so I have no idea what became of her. Then I had to go back to the National Guard office and sit for another hour and periodically sign some official looking document, before I was sent off to get my fingerprints. Fingerprints seem pretty routine right? Well for some inexplicable reason my fingerprints are suddenly "very" scarred and in "terrible condition," so after four different people attempted to fingerprint me on the computer, we had to resort back to the old ink cards and mail them into the FBI.

After that I returned to the National Guard office to sign more documents and then meet with a lady about my top secret security clearance that will take months to complete, and if you know me, there's a good chance the FBI will want to chat with you. Then we left and went to Draper.

In Draper they picked out my first uniform for me. Everything feels like a tent, but my recruiter swears the stuff shrinks a little. I also was gifted some little shorts to work out in. Can't tell you how excited I am to try those on... So with my new Army gear in tow we went down the hall to some offices and signed more paperwork, set up a military e-mail address, and finally Glen showed up to offer some familial support. They swore me in, and had me sign my enlistment contract. When it was all said and done, and my freedoms were gone, the guy swearing me in shook my hand and said "Welcome to the US Army, Specialist Black." I had a weird moment where I wanted to laugh, like it was some kind of a joke title. It's me though, I am now Specialist Black, and I report to basic training in Ft. Jackson, SC on May 15th. It's a long ways out still, so I'll be attending drill in Spanish Fork one weekend a month until I ship to basic.

My little date

2010-11-12T21:39:00.000-08:00

John and I were talking last weekend and we wound up making plans to go to the BYU game that was tonight with his kids, and Sarah and Jared agreed to leave Thor in my charge for the evening so I could bring him along to hang out with his cousins. John and his kids bailed, but I had already hyped Thor up about the game, so there was no way that I could just cancel on him. Sarah and I have been joking around all week about my little date with him tonight. Andrew signed on as a third wheel mid-week.

It's the first date I've been on where I had to ask his mom for permission to take him out, I bought the tickets, I did the driving. I also packed a bag of supplies for him, carried him from the car to the Marriott Center, let him sit on my lap the entire game, ordered him to hold my hand, refused his pleas for ice cream and cotton candy, and carried him all the way back to the car, and then listened to him talk all the way home about how he wanted to go home to have "Mamma read me a story." He also told us on the way home that he likes basketball, and wants to go to another basketball game. Next time we will leave earlier and park closer, he's a hefty little guy and he refused to let Andrew carry him. We will also either sit closer or bring binoculars so that he doesn't have to use his hands:
Sarah and Jared were worried that it was going to be a terrible experience, but he really was super good. I think he went into a bit of sensory overload right there at the beginning. Sarah sings the BYU fight song to him from time to time, but he was so overwhelmed listening to the entire crowd singing it that he was sort of stunned into silence and wasn't able to regroup enough to participate until the end of the game. He just sat in my lap gaping at the cheerleaders, Cosmo, the half-time show, and the band. I guess it really is a lot to take in for a little guy.

A night on the town

2010-11-08T09:39:00.000-08:00

After the football game on Saturday a friend of mine from California called me. He moved to Utah several years ago, and I haven't seen him since he moved. He wanted me to meet him for dinner so that he could introduce me to a friend of his, because we are the "two biggest BYU fans I know." So I went.

I met them at a restaurant in American Fork. Right after we sat down and I asked the guy arranging this to tell me his latest since it had been so long. I got the standard info on his employment and then he got this weird smile on his face and announced that his biggest news is that he no longer goes to church, because he doesn't believe it anymore. Most of dinner was spent discussing his apostasy in greater detail. The friend that was along was familiar with the situation, and I gather had already had these discussions with him. He was very nice though, and patiently endured me dominating the dinner conversation. Just as dinner was ending my friend asked if I'd like to go with them to a birthday party. The host was a guy we both knew back in California, so I agreed.

I walked into the door of the party and the first person I saw was a guy I knew from back in junior high orchestra. I think it took me a second of staring at him to register who it was standing there greeting me. It was very random. Aside from that, the party was really just a lot of guys standing around watching the Jazz game in the living room, while girls that I suspect made me look very scroungy in my jeans and t-shirt, paraded back and forth in front of the TV. One of the girls I know, but I couldn't quite place her, so I didn't chat with her. We left as soon as the Jazz game ended.

I thought we were going to a second house party, but thankfully it had been cancelled, so instead we wound up in the kitchen of some guys house, standing around in a group, staring at his large bulldog. I don't think I love bulldogs, it was a very loud breather. From there my friend announced that we would be going to a bar in Lehi to see some band play.

Nights like that one are probably why I have hearing loss. The band was really loud and the bar was really small, everyone there was super drunk, and there was way too much ute gear inside of that place. My fellow BYU fan and myself immediately felt a little self-conscious about our game day attire. I feel like the environment can best be described as "trashy country." There was a guy on the dance floor with pliers in his pocket. Actually, that's not true, the pliers were strapped to his side with some sort of little leather tool belt. I'm not one to look down on somebody for not being all spiffed up to perfection, but I really just think you could afford to shed the toolbelt for an evening out. At least think about leaving it in the car? To each their own... I did venture out to the dance floor once, but then I had this weird drunk cowboy winking at me from the bar, either that or he was winking at my dance partner...hard to say. That's how I started off going to meet a friend for dinner at Chili's and ended up at a bar in Lehi with a bunch of drunk ute cowboys. I eventually got a ride to my car and made my way back to the home front. Maybe I know more people in Utah than I realized.

Inching Closer

2010-10-20T15:02:00.000-07:00

People always talked to me about military recruiters as though they had some sort of tractor beam set up, and if you talked to them for more than 15 minutes they would lure you into their office, where they trick you into signing something, and then you suddenly discover that you've enlisted and signed away all of your personal freedoms without ever meaning to do so.

I turned in my enlistment papers back in June, and I have yet to sign away my personal freedoms, but my recruiter called today and we are apparently moving closer to that goal. He has found a spot for me as an interrogator. The language I have chosen is Russian, and hopefully next week I will know the when and where of basic training.

As for the running, I still hate it, but not quite as much as I did in the very beginning. I have had a break through where I've started to feel like I can actually breath while I running at this altitude.

Desk Work

2010-10-15T10:41:00.000-07:00

I hate desk work. I'm doing some for a bit, while I wait to hear that a spot for my MOS has opened up and I can ship to basic training. I forgot how much I hate sitting at a desk all day. I forgot about the kink I get in my neck, and the way my eyes hurt from staring at a computer for hours on end. I think that office work is really bad for you. I'm pretty sure that people were just never intended to do this much sitting all at once. I don't know how I forgot all this. I must have blocked it out or something. All I know for certain is that it's all come back to me now and I wish I were at basic training. Of course once I'm there I'll probably consider myself something of an idiot for having ever had these thoughts.

Idaho

2010-10-01T22:33:00.000-07:00

People talk about Idaho like it's either the most amazing state in the union, or alternatively hell on Earth. I took my first little trip to Idaho today. I'm in Montana for the weekend at Yellowstone, but to get here we had to travel through Idaho. I guess we went through Pocatello, Idaho Falls, and Rexburg. I must say that I am not impressed with the Idaho I have seen thus far. My impression of Idaho is that it is actually a very flat place. I expected it to be these fantastic mountains and great views. We didn't see much of that. Sometimes there appeared to be mountains way off in the distance which leads me to suspect that there may be better parts to that state, but I have yet to see them. Montana seems lovely. Although I'm quite certain that I would not think so once it starts to snow. I think I like Utah better, especially southern Utah.

Speaking of...Cousin Glen and I took yet another little road trip the other day down to Laverkin to drop off Cousin Gile. It's an experience I am certain that I will never forget. Gile and Jared should road trip together. In fact, Glen started calling Gile "Jared" after Gile yelled at us a few times to hurry it up. Gile insisted on riding in the passenger seat, and then further insisted that he was not falling asleep. He was snoring. He did wake up in time to tell us stories about his neighbors, and specfically the task force that was camped out on the mountain in his backyard spying on his neighbor. When questioned a little more closely it came out that his buddy/neighbor had managed to procure a large amount of C4 and was preparing to blow up an old mine shaft. I can't say that I've ever had a task force show up in my backyard, and to my knowledge none of my neighbors have ever purchased C4. My life is very boring, perhaps I need to move to Southern Utah.

Cleared

2010-09-30T21:47:00.000-07:00

Tuesday was finally the dreaded physical for my enlistment. By way of clarification, everyone seems confused by this, and believes that I'm talking about the part where I have to do a bunch of sit-ups, push-ups, and running. Negative. This is the part where they look you over and decide whether or not you're in good enough health to even attempt to run and do those push-ups and sit-ups.

I had to show up at meps (military entrance processing station) in Salt Lake at 6am. The first thing they did is take my blood pressure. I was feeling really nervous about this whole thing, but the poor guy in there getting his blood pressure taken at the same time made me look cool as a cucumber. They took his at least three times and finally made some notations in his file and said they'd try again one last time before he leaves. They sent us on to the vision station.

At the vision station a sort of grumpy old man made me step up to the machine with the little chart in it. Okay, no big deal, I've done this before...but I swear those letters in there were miniscule! For a second I just stared at them and said nothing, until the old man barked at me to get started. The guy moved the letters around while alternatively blacking out one of my eyes. They also tested me for color blindness. I passed vision without a problem and was then directed into a room with all the other recruits to fill out papers about my medical history.

They wanted to know absurd things like, how old was I when I got chicken pox. I don't know, but I guessed 5. The paperwork felt like it took hours, but it was probably only 45 minutes or so. Afterwards I was shuttled over to the hearing station. They stuck me in a little booth, had me put headphones on, and hold a little clicker in my hand. I was supposed to hit the clicker evertime I heard a beep. I truthfully found the whole test to be a bit confusing because at times I couldn't decide if I was actually hearing a beep, or if the beep was just in my head. Regardless, it turns out I have some hearing loss. They tested me three times, before announcing that my hearing loss is not severe enough to warrant any sort of a waiver. I was then moved along to the blood station.

They took a single vial of blood, and then placed this tiny little kiddy sized bandage on my arm. I only made it to the door before the bandaid popped loose and blood started spurting all over my arm and onto their floor. I imagine those blood people weren't my biggest fans. They had to hustle me back into my seat and then strapped on a bandage that I felt was unnecessarily large. Next I had to go down a hall and interview with a Dr.

The Dr. asked questions about any tattoos, brandings, body piercings, and illegal drug use. He wanted to know if I'd ever been arrested. I sailed through that, since I apparently have led a very boring life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I wish that it were otherwise, but when at the end the Dr. responded that most people have to say "yes" to at least one of those questions I did feel a bit dull.

After the interview the men and women were split up. Myself and the three other ladies got escorted into a room where we were asked to strip down to our underwear. They weighed us, and then measured our height. Then the Dr. came in and we were asked to stand in a line while he checked our ears, eyes, and throats. After that he asked us to spread out and conducted us through a series of odd stretches and exercises, including the infamous duck walk. Jared asked me later if it was creepy prancing around in my underwears in front of some Dr. who was just sitting back watching, but trust me when I say that the military has really mastered the ability to make you feel like livestock. Nothing about this experience feels at all personal. After that we did a brief visit to a private room with the Dr. and a nurse for a more personal inspection, and then off to urinalysis.

The nurse lady has to stand there and observe you giving the urine sample. They intentionally leave that for the last station, and by the time you get there it's been at least 4 hours. One of the other ladies was only 17 though, and came down with a little case of stage fright. I felt bad for her, I'm sure having the nurse staring her down in the stall was bad enough, but then having three other people all standing around waiting didn't do much to help. Either way, she eventually completed the task and we were moved along for a final interview with the Dr.

I had this overwhelming fear that I'd get into the last interview and the Dr. would suddenly announce that they had noticed that I have some horrible disqualifying condition...or say that they noticed my back is way too crooked and I'm done. I know the Dr. noticed, he was watching me like a hawk during the underwear routine, but never said a word other than to ask if he could take a closer look at my lower back. All my worries were for nothing. The last Dr. sat me down, reviewed through all the results, announced that I was cleared for service, and asked me to go check out at the front desk.

I called my recruiter who was very enthusiastic about my passing the physical and announced that my last step is to decide what foreign language I want to learn. Once I decide that he'll find me a spot, give me a date for when I'll ship to basic training, and have me sworn in.

Now for the hard part. I thought deciding for sure whether or not I really wanted to do this was hard. Wrong. Turns out deciding which language I want to learn is going to be the hard part. I wanted to learn Spanish, but I sort of shot myself in the foot by scoring high enough on the DLAB (Defense Language Aptitude Battery) that I am eligible to learn any language. So now they don't want to teach me Spanish or any of the category I languages (Italian, French, etc..), because they want me to learn Arabic, Farsi, Mandarin, or Korean. Farsi is the only one I'm considering from that category, also thinking about Russian, but really I don't have a clue which one to choose...I just have this one last thing to figure out. At least this gives me more time to stall before I have to start turning into a runner in preparation for the PT test. Have a mentioned how much I hate to run? I have to buy running shoes, and I haven't the faintest idea what one looks for in a good running shoe.

The State Fair

2010-09-15T08:52:00.000-07:00

The first fair I ever went to was the Orange County fair. Sarah took me to see the demolition derby there for my birthday one year. The event went far beyond what words can describe. Let's just say that there was a power outage, a rogue half-time show, gang fights, two missing front teeth, and a fire at the very end. It was everything a person could ever hope for in one event. I remember the guy next to me leaning over and saying "you know you'll never be able to describe this to anyone, they'll never believe you." That right there is the truth.

While no fair event will ever even come close to comparing to that historic derby, I must say that the thing I loved the most about the Utah state fair is the livestock. I love that they actually let you touch the animals. I'm not certain that they really want you to touch them, but there's nobody there to glare at you if you do. In fact I was even able to touch the little piglets here in Utah, where I was only allowed to view them from a distance at the OC fair. Their little noses feel weird and rubbery. I went a few days ago, but I keep thinking I'd like to go again before it's over.

Glen vs. Jared on the road

2010-09-11T23:52:00.000-07:00

I've decided to treat you all to a little story about my move to back to Utah. Well first of all the move was all very last minute, so I was forced to leave the vast majority of my belongings behind, and plan a return trip to retrieve them with my Dad's suburban in a couple of weeks. Glen and Jared agreed to come back with me to help.

We planned an early departure, but ended up getting kind of a late start. It was my observation that my dad, Jared, and Glen were determined to load us down with every tool possible just in case we experienced some mechanical failure along the way. After an hour or so of watching them sort, load, unload, reload, and talk over the possible uses of multiple tools we were at last on our way. Only as far as the distribution center down the street though, because Glen had neglected to pack clean underwears. Then to the gas station for gas and food stuffs, and finally the freeway.

We made it all the way to Nephi before we made our first bathroom stop, our second bathroom stop was in Beaver, and then while Jared was napping in the backseat Glen and I decided to detour over to Tocquerville to say hello to Gile. Jared woke up just in time to fork over a dollar to a sweat soaked Gile so that he could purchase a beverage before we said "goodbye" and made our way back to the freeway. Perhaps Glen and I should have taken note of the tone of irritation in Jared's voice when he asked "Where are we? How far out from the freeway did you take us?" We stopped again in St. George to visit Aunt Betty and Uncle Atwood, eat lunch, and stop at Autozone for a plug of some sort for Glen's trailer that we were hauling.

It was sitting in the parking lot of Autozone in St. George with Jared that I first began to realize that he was annoyed. I said something about how I couldn't fathom what was taking Glen so long in there, and Jared replied "I don't know, maybe he knows someone who works here?" There was a distinctly irritated tone in his voice. I guess the additional stop at the AM/PM outside of Vegas for nachos, and then again in Barstow to say hi to Larry and buy some additional trailer parts at that Autozone just about put poor Jared over the top. We wanted to stop and see Uncle Hardy, but Jared looked like he might start swearing at us if we made one more stop. By the time we dropped him off in Long Beach I think he was barely speaking to us. Glen and I discussed it privately later that night, and Glen said that on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being uncontrollably angry, that Jared was at least a 6. In future conversations with Jared he did not deny that allegation.

Glen and I spent Saturday out in the 909 with Mike and Sheila, and then came back to my house to start sorting items. Glen said there were more things than he had initially realized, and then after surveying the items in the garage announced that we'd been "dealt a serious blow" by those additional items, and we best start packing right away if we were going to figure out how to get it all crammed in there. We packed until 3am, and Glen somehow managed to fit most everything I own into the Suburban, with a few items taped to the roof. That's right, they were taped, because I did not own any rope, but we had to devise some way of securing them to the roof until we could at least proceed to the Home Depot the next morning for something a bit more reliable than packing tape.

Jared claims that we did not arrive in Long Beach to pick him up, until 10am the next morning. Glen and I believe this to be a gross exaggeration. Either way, we picked up him and then proceeded to Ricky's house to retrieve two oversized armchairs that Jared had been forced to leave behind when he married Sarah. He and Glen somehow managed to wedge them into Glen's little trailer and we were headed home. We stopped in Ontario for gas, and as we were pulling out Glen put on a straight face and asked Jared if perhaps we should stop in Barstow to visit Larry and Suellen. Jared remained relatively calm and asked Glen in a not so nice tone of voice "Are you messing with me right now? I MEAN SERIOUSLY, ARE YOU MESSING WITH ME?!" At which point Glen and I burst into laughter as Glen admitted that "Yes, I'm messing with you a little bit." I don't think that Jared was even a little bit amused.

I think that Jared was even less amused when Glen pulled out a pink and purple toy microphone and begin speaking to Jared through it, and then tried to demand that Jared take a turn with the microphone. For a moment I thought that Jared was going to rip it from Glen's hand and destroy it, but instead he pulled out his ipod and did his best to shut us out.

We did not make that many stops on the way back, but to hear Jared tell it you'd think that we toodled along at 20mph, and visited every rest stop between here and California. We did stop at the Virgin River Casino in Mesquite for dinner. The waittress seemed to be quite taken with Jared. I'm uncertain as to whether or not she noticed Glen and I sitting at the table, because she was so busy fussing about "deary" a.k.a. Jared and his dinner. Too bad for her Jared was already in a bad mood from travelling with Glen and I, and apparently hates to be called "deary."

Shortly after leaving Mesquite we devised a game where one of us would select some sort of category and the other two would have to find a song in their ipod to play over the car speakers that fit into the category. The person who selected the category then judged who picked the best song. I think it was obvious that I was the winner, but let's just say that some people felt that it was necessary to disparage their opponent's selection in an effort to try and win votes for their own poor selection.

We got home in the wee hours of the morning, and Jared has since sworn that he will never again roadtrip with Glen. Glen and I are convinced that Jared really enjoyed himself immensely, but just has too much pride to admit it, and Glen has specifically noted that he's certain that Jared was secretly dying to sing into that purple and pink toy microphone. I also suspect that to be the case.

Perhaps I should be a professional mover...

2010-08-15T00:28:00.001-07:00

I've decided to return to the home state. California isn't cutting it for me anymore, so I've reached the conclusion that it's time to be done. I'll be pulling out of here in a few days. That means I lasted 5 months in this apartment. Not bad, not bad at all. I wonder if I will miss living here.

A Misdemeanor

2010-08-05T17:10:00.000-07:00

When I got back from a visit with the Hexberg's a while back I couldn't find the extra clip for my .22 anywhere. I finally figured that I must have left it behind, the Hexberg's hadn't seen it, but I assumed that it would eventually turn up eventually just kind of forgot about it.

I forgot about it until this morning when I was standing on the collection side of the x-ray machines at LAX watching the image of my overnight bag flash up, and then the operator zoom in on what appeared to be the missing .22 clip, a loaded .22 clip...yes, definitely the missing, loaded .22 clip. Just as I had reached that conclusion the x-ray guy's hand shot up into the air and he started saying loudly "I need a supervisor over here! No, I need a supervisor for this one!" So immediately two TSA people descended on me, snatched my bag off the conveyor belt, and rushed me and my bag off to the side where I would be out of the other passenger's way, but of course still totally visible to everyone else flying Delta this morning.

The first order of business was for one TSA person to remove the entire contents of my bag, spread it out all over the counter, while another TSA person stood to the side and watched me like I might try and make a run for it. A third TSA person arrived shortly thereafter to get my information to check for a police record. The fourth TSA person was filling out an official TSA report, and the fifth TSA person was calling and reporting to other people that they had found a loaded clip in someone's luggage. I was questioned by three of the TSA officers, who all seemed very hung up on how a loaded gun clip wound up in my luggage, and even more baffled when I told them that I had left it there, that I am the owner of both the clip, and the gun to which it belongs. At one point I was asked what caliber the rounds were by one of the TSA officers, after he had spent a few minutes silently inspecting the clip trying to ascertain that on his own. Someone from the police department finally called back to report that I have a clean police record, which seemed to disappoint the TSA officer who took the call. At that point I asked if I could please turn over the rounds and keep the clip, and I was told in no uncertain terms that I was not to touch anything until a police officer arrived.

The police officer was kind of a jerk. He started off asking me what I was doing with a clip in my bag, and I told him I must have left it there from a camping trip I took earlier this year. I guess camping and guns don't go hand in hand in his world. Then he paused and I ventured to ask if I would be able to keep the clip. That's when he sort of went ballistic and while waiving the clip in one hand shouted at me and told me that I was interrupting him, and then asked if I knew that I was interrupting. I knew that I was not, but I decided it best to just roll with things, so I told him that I did, and that I was sorry, and to please go ahead. He shouted at me that he didn't think I understood how much trouble I'm in because "THIS IS A MISDEMEANOR!" Maybe he thought that I don't understand the difference between a misdemeanor and a felony? He went on to tell me that he was trying hard to avoid taking me downtown, but that I needed to start cooperating. So I just nodded my head and said "yes, sir." He asked me if I had a lock box for the clip, and when I told him that I did not that's when he started shouting again, louder this time, and went on some rant that lasted for quite a while about how I'm an irresponsible gun owner for "attempting to transport ammunition without knowing the laws." I just let him yell, and when he was done I told him that I wasn't attempting to transport ammunition, it was an honest accident, and I just want the clip, he can take the rounds. He unloaded the clip and had a TSA officer escort me back out of security to the desk to check my bag before he would hand me back the clip.

The guy at the desk wanted to know what was in the bag that security made me check, and when I told him it was a gun clip he got all worked up and wanted to know if there was a gun in the bag too. Because I guess he believed that security would just turn me loose with a gun in the airport? I barely made it back through security in time to catch my flight, but I arrived, with my clip in SLC this morning, and really grateful that my ride to the airport this morning drove fast and got me there earlier than I had felt was really necessary. I'm sure I created quite a spectacle for all the other passengers this morning, what with my entourage of TSA officers, and an angry police officer.

Lighting up

2010-07-22T00:30:00.000-07:00

I went to lunch today with a friend of mine. We decided to go to a little sushi restaurant in HB. Towards the end of the meal I noticed a little plume of smoke that seemed to be coming from a table on the other side of the room. I took a closer look, because I was certain that I must be mistaken. I wasn't, one of the other patrons was casually smoking a cigarette as though he were just relaxing on a park bench. I tried to get a picture, but the cigarette was too small for me to get a good picture on the phone camera. I kept waiting for someone to approach him and ask him to put it out. Perhaps he owns the place or something, because for the duration of our stay there he openly waived it around and puffed away at the thing. When's the last time you saw someone smoking in a public building? I couldn't stop staring, I don't know if it's been decades, but it felt like it.

A Deadly Bump

2010-07-19T21:16:00.000-07:00

Christy and I decided to drive to Utah together, with her 4 kids for Aunt Sandra's funeral, and the family reunion. The drive up was pretty uneventful. The same cannot be said for the return trip. I realized today that we were lucky to make it home in one piece.

Outside of Cedar City on I-15, I was cruising through a construction zone at...well it was early, and on a Sunday, so the construction crews weren't around, so lets just say that I didn't really reduce my speed, and nobody else in front of me did either. We passed by a series of construction signs and therefore only noted the sign that said "bump" until I was only a few feet away and cruising towards the "bump" at 80+ mph. I say "bump" because I believe that "ditch" might be a more appropriate description. I just remember catching my breath as I saw the bump sign at about the same time that the van launched into the air, and wobbled briefly as all four tires lost contact with the road. Christy and I both saw the huge scrape marks all over the other side of the ditch/bump as we flew over. We both agreed afterwards that we would have also left an additional scrape in the road had I actually been heeding the speed reductions for the construction zone. We touched down on the other side, made a very bumpy landing and continued on our way.

After it seemed safe again we both started laughing about the incident. It was that relieved "the only reason we can laugh about this now is because we came out of this okay" kind of laughter. It took us a minute to regain some composure, at which point I mentioned to Christy that I was grateful that I didn't slam on the brakes, and the person in front of us (who was also going 80ish) didn't either, because I was fairly certain that the outcome would have been disastrous.

Today, I was reading through the Deseret News when an article caught my eye about 2 deaths on I-15 in Washington County. One of the deaths was apparently caused by a "bump" in a construction zone. The fatality occurred going northbound, but then I read the comment posted below the article verifying my suspicions that the northbound bump is similar to the bump on the southbound side:

"I hit that violent "bump" yesterday. It was the worst and most abrupt interstate 'bump' I have ever experienced. The people in our car suggested we should return with a video camera today to capture the inevitable resulting wrecks. It's just as bad southbound. The carnage is not over until highway engineers fix their mistake. "

Having personally experienced the "bump" I must say that I agree with the poster. I think we were fortunate to have cleared the hazard without incident.

Smoke

2010-06-28T08:39:00.000-07:00

I love it when my neighbor lights up right outside my window. It's as if he's right here in the room with me sharing a few puffs.

Extra Poundage

2010-06-15T21:55:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I come up with these ideas that in my head sound like the most phenomenally fun thing I've ever done, and then the actual implementation of that activity winds up being a bit...well not bad, but not really as fantastic as the imaginary experience. That's because in my mind everything runs smoothly, and I don't make idiot decisions. In real life I do.

Sarah left town to go on a business trip to NY. She took Winnie, but she left Thor behind...with me. I decided that it would be really great to take him hiking to Stewart Falls. It's short, and I figured he could hike a good portion on his own before I would have to heft him the rest of the way up in the backpack carrier.

The first part of the plan backfired when I failed to find the trail head. That's because I also failed to read the directions about how to find the trail head. I know they are not hard or complicated, but they are if you don't read them. As a result I wound up having to be directed around a dump truck by the same UDOT construction worker not once, twice, or even three times, but FOUR times before I finally discovered that I was miles from the trail. Neal came with us, and he pointed out that the guy was undoubtedly wondering what's wrong with me. I responded to Neal that I'll never see him again...or I was hoping we wouldn't be seeing him again for at least few hours anyway, and that if I chose to drive back and forth all day, he'd still get paid, so what does he care? Neal's right though, he had probably decided that I'm an idiot.

We finally got on the trail and Thor wanted to ride in the backpack. I strapped him on and we started off. He loved the backpack and wasn't really interested in doing any hiking. What seemed to be an easy trail became significantly more intense when I strapped 35+ pounds of dead weight to my back. That's dead weight that kept leaning back and forth trying to touch the trees and begged to be bounced up and down. Dead weight that drank so much water out of Neal's camelpack, that you'd have thought that he was intentionally trying to make himself heavier. While he was sucking down fluids at a record pace I was sweating them out at an equally impressive rate. When I told my inconsiderate little passenger that we were getting close to the waterfall he started jostling around back there and shouting "Hurry Jewy! HURRY!!!!" I think that if he'd been wearing spurs he would have used them.

He loved the falls, and crabbed at us quite a bit when it was time to go. He also got scared riding in the backpack where the trail was a little narrow on the way out and whined at me until I let him out. He hiked for a quarter of a mile or so at a turtle's pace until Neal and I lost patience and bribed him to get back in with some little strips of fruit leather and graham crackers. The way he was waving his arms around doing the motions to some of his little primary songs we were singing to him, I'm certain I finished the hike with little bits cracker and fruit clinging to my hair.

I passed the UDOT construction worker for the fifth time that day on the way home. Aside from that annoying incident, or rather incidents with the construction worker, this one wound up being pretty much just as fun as I had imagined.

Rabbits

2010-05-25T09:15:00.000-07:00

Cousin Glen told me that if I came to Utah before he leaves for Iraq that he would take me rabbit hunting and teach me how to field dress a jack rabbit. I understand this wouldn't be a tempting offer for everyone, but I guess based on the fact that I'm sitting on Sarah's couch writing this, it's safe to say that I found the offer to be tempting enough.

I decided to drive, and the trip was relatively uneventful. I did get a chance to stop in at the Wal-Mart in Washington for some supplies, where I had the chance to openly gape at three polygamist sister wives. Fascinating. I only wish that there had been more time to spend staring at them, but I brought Willie with me, and I was afraid she'd start overheating in the car if I didn't hurry. I really want to know how they get their hair to stay in that weird wavy bun thing. Two of the wives looked like actual sisters, can you even imagine....I cannot.

As soon as I got here I stopped in at the parent's to drop off some things. When I went back out to the car to leave for Glen's I discovered a puddle of oil forming underneath the car. My dad came out, looked around under the hood, checked the oil, and announced that I would be safe to make it out to Glen's, but to "keep a hawk eye on that temperature gauge," and basically be prepared to blow a lot of money on repairs while I'm here.

I got to Glen's and I mentioned that my car appeared to have developed a mysterious oil leak on the way here. That's where I lost the hunting trip. Glen decided that the oil leak was a higher priority than teaching me to kill rabbits, and wound up devoting all of our hunting time to resolving my car issues.

The car is fixed now, which is nothing short of a huge relief, but thus far we've been unsuccessful in rescheduling the hunting trip. Although, I did wake up the next day and decided that despite the fact that I was feeling a little tired, a little dehydrated, and apparently a little stupid, that I would go to the gym and exert myself to the point that I would be left with all the energy of a fruit fly. I've spent the last two days laying around the house an invalid, but I believe that's behind me now.

The Four Hour Car Wash

2010-05-15T12:22:00.000-07:00

I usually workout at the gym alone. It's not really my preference. While I would love to have company, it turns out that there are few people who actually enjoy full participation in my routine. Sarah used to go with me sometimes, back when the word "piggy" brought to mind images of actual pigs. (If that last sentence made no sense to you, it's because you do not read her blog, and you should.) Sarah was my most faithful workout partner. Historically other people have proffessed to really wanting to go with me, but they wind up falling into one of three categories:

They openly accuses me of being a "Nazi" and will only go with me after securing promises that they will not be asked to do hard things.

They go once, but then admit that they hated it, and politely decline any future invitations.

They go once and hate it, but don't have the guts to admit that they don't want to ever go again, so they profess to "really wishing" that they could..."if only I had the time."

This being the case I was pretty enthused when my friend M.E. told me that she was dropping her car off for a two-hour cleaning Friday morning, and was going to go running at the gym across the street from the car wash while she was waiting. I hate running and I avoid it at all costs, but she asked me if I would like to join her at the tailend of her run and she'd workout with me for a little while. So I did, and it was great, and then she left me there to finish while she went to go get her car. An hour later I got home and I found a text message from her saying that she was still at the car wash because they had broken the seat on her car and were attempting to fix it. I offered to come pick her up.

When I got to the car wash I found her talking to Ruben, the manager, while two other men were crouched around the driver's side door of the car with a toolbox, allegedly fixing the seat. Ruben was really not helping, he placed a few phone calls, bustled back and forth from the office to the car a few times, and kept saying things like "just a few more minutes," "we'll get this fixed,""I have a friend who can fix this...," and "I will need to call another guy to find out what to do." M.E. was understandably losing patience, and finally asked that Ruben allow her to take the car to a dealership nearby to have the seat fixed. There was more "well, my friend can come fix this in just two more hours..." Patience ran out, and M.E. demanded that he have his workers bolt the seat back down, (which had by that point been entirely removed) and for them to do it RIGHT NOW. Ruben reluctantly had his people replace the seat, and after a total of four hours M.E.'s car was at last returned.

However, the seat was stuck in the front part of the tracks. I was truthfully somewhat astonished that M.E. was even able to wedge her legs in their and still have enough mobility to drive at all. I followed her to the dealership and took a picture of it before she got out:

As it turns out the motor on the seat had just worn out and the car wash was not at all to blame for the fiasco...or not that aspect of the fiasco anyway. When we returned later that afternoon to pick up the car the dealership gave her a coupon for 50% off of her next car wash...at the same car wash we'd been to that morning. She offered me the coupon, I declined. Who has four hours to spend getting their car washed?

Hottie in the Hot Tub

2010-05-05T01:03:00.001-07:00

I went to San Diego for a few days to see my cousin Ryan who is here for some work training. He flew in Sunday night, we met up at Trent & Christy's for a while, and made plans to meet the next evening at his hotel and go swimming.

The next evening was a little cool, but there was a huge hot tub, so everyone ended up in there. At first there were a bunch of other strangers in there too, but after a while the group dwindled down until it was just the kids, Ryan, Trent, Christy, myself (dangling my feet over the side since I hadn't thought to bring a swimsuit), and a strange wrinkled old lady. The wrinkly lady made a few ill-fated attempts to join our conversation by periodically treating us to little unsolicited facts about herself. We weren't rude, just not at all encouraging.

After a while the kids were looking a little red and overheated, and had to be sent to the pool to cool off. Trent left to go watch them, and as he was leaving I was momentarily distracted by something. I was more than a little surprised to look up a few seconds after Trent left to see that the wrinkly old lady had crossed over from one side of the large hot tub to the other to claim Trent's spot right next to Ryan. She was blatantly staring at him and sipping her Bud Light, while Ryan on the other hand, had suddenly lost that "this is really nice and relaxing" look and had assumed an intensely uncomfortable look about him. I cannot overstate the disappointment I have in myself for failing to have the presence of mind to capture a picture of this on my phone. Ryan was doing everything he could to not look at the lady, but Christy and I were sitting on the other side of the hot tub and I don't think that either one of us could stop looking at her. She acted like we were all but invisible as she pelted Ryan with personal questions and tried everything she could to engage him in conversation. We did our best to run interference...okay, not true. I did nothing but sit there and watch. Christy is apparently a more compassionate person and she kept mentioning Ryan's wife and kids, and finally said something about needing to leave. Ryan left so fast that it was almost like he vanished into thin air. The wrinkly lady looked pretty shot down, and got up to reveal that she was wearing the sort of swimsuit a woman her age should never be allowed to purchase. Wrinkled cleavage. Need I say more?

That incident has been the highlight of my week thus far. I was so amused listening to Ryan note with some dismay afterwards that he got hit on, but it wasn't even flattering.

Trent and Christy had church obligations to attend to tonight, so Ryan and I went to the Mormon Battalion museum which was cool and all, but not quite as fun for me as watching Ryan squirm under the lustful gaze of the wrinkly lady. We did get this picture as a souvenir though:

Pedicures

2010-05-02T13:51:00.001-07:00

Pedicure people are rude. There's just no way around it. They point and talk about you in a foreign language with their little friends. They get pushy about painting flowers on your toes, annoyed if you keep your toes under the foot fans too long, and act all put out that you've come there to pay for their services in the first place. It's the worst customer service I've ever seen. It doesn't matter which place you go to either, they're all like that. I guess if you want to shell out $30+ for your toes you might be able to find someone who will be polite to you while they do it, but I wouldn't count on it.

Yesterday I went to get mine done, and halfway through the lady started talking really loudly to me about how it's either very moist, or very dry inbetween my toes (I think it's because they are flaking from a sunburn I got on my feet last weekend). I couldn't understand her well enough to determine exactly what was going on, other than she has a problem with my toes that she wanted me, and everyone else in the salon to know about it. Now everyone knows that I can resolve this issue by slathering vaseline all over my toes every morning. Regardless, this incident won't stop me from going back there again some time.

2010-04-29T23:15:00.000-07:00

I got to spend the day yesterday with the cousins. We went to Laguna Beach to see the tide pools. They loved it:Holt was also insistent that we actually venture into the water. I couldn't convince him that the water was freezing cold, even when my feet were in the water and hurting from the cold he could not be convinced that it wasn't really fun. I'm quite a wimp when it comes to being cold, so my time in the water was very limited, and I retreated back to dry sand and just watched them. It seems like men are immune to the cold. Here they are prepping to get in:

I don't know what exactly was going on here, but I'm glad I wasn't involved:

Then we cruised by the Newport Temple for a minute on our way home.
I had to drop them off at LAX this morning, and they're back in West Virginia now, which has been kind of a downer today. West Virginia is a long ways from California, I wish they lived closer.

The Pacific

2010-04-27T11:59:00.000-07:00

I picked up my cousin Jody and his son Holt yesterday afternoon at John Wayne. They're here for a few days from West Virginia. Neither of them have ever been to California.

I was only 100 yards or so off the freeway entrance ramp when Jody told me that 1. he had never seen a freeway with six lanes in each direction before, and that 2. I drive like a crazy person. I am a good driver, but I've been on the freeway in West Virginia, so I understand why he thinks I drive like a crazy person.

I brought them back to Huntington Beach, and we walked down to the beach. They've never seen the Pacific, and Jody says the only time he's seen the Atlantic was once from a school bus window in Atlanta. Here are some pictures:

When I first picked them up at the airport Holt was staring at me silently while Jody ranted on about a Nintendo something or other that Holt walked off and left in the Las Vegas airport. Jody kept saying that Holt has a hard listening, paying attention, and following directions. He also told Holt at the beach that he could go in just far enough to get his feet wet, but to be careful not to get his shorts wet too. I see what he means about Holt not listening:
...and here's a not so great shot of the father with his rather soggy son:

Tires

2010-04-26T00:54:00.000-07:00

The air pressure in my car tires seemed to be getting kind of low the other day, and I needed to get them filled. I had to call someone I know to take care of that for me, because I don't dare do it myself anymore. The last time, or rather the only time that I tried to fill my tires I ended up with a flat tire. I'm not really sure how things went so wrong, but there was air whooshing and I made the erroneous assumption that was the sound of air going in my tire. Turns out the air was going out, and I clearly wasn't competent to handle filling my tires, so I had to call for help. Lesson learned, now I just don't even attempt to mess around with it. I told the person who came to fill my tires the other day this story, to explain why I really am not capable of just doing it on my own. This person requested that I write about it on my blog, maybe so you can all snicker at me. I suspect that there aren't many people out there who can say they've flatted their own tire while trying to fill it. I can.

Mid-singles

2010-04-25T23:38:00.000-07:00

The HB mid-singles conference was this weekend, and I had no intention of attending, but at the last minute I felt pressured into it since my ward is hosting the event. This year I decided to do the speed dating. I've watched the speed daters at this conference, but I've never actually participated. It always kind of cracked me up watching couples where one of them is leaned halfway over the table, and the other one is plastered against the back of their chair, looking as though they would like to bolt and run. Part way through the speed dating I was paired up with someone who was unusually uptight, and extremely soft spoken. That's when I reached the horrifying realization that we were that couple, and I was the one leaning halfway across the table.

In addition to that awkward experience I also met a man who tried to talk me into paying to join his social networking website, and a guy who devoted his 5 minutes interrogating me about how serious I really am about wanting to get married (I was feeling less certain about it with every passing second.) Speed dating was maybe my favorite part of the conference. No, take that back it was my second favorite, Saturday bbq lunch was my favorite...great food.

Dandruff

2010-04-21T15:03:00.000-07:00

I wore sunscreen on the camping trip, but I guess I missed the little strip right at the top of my forehead. Now it's peeling and I look like I've got a severe case of dandruff. I'm also starting to get freckles, and it's only April. I'm going to look like a dalmation by the fall if this keeps up.

Lucky

2010-04-21T13:43:00.000-07:00

I got to go camping with cousins last week, I visited cousins in San Diego this week. Then as a bonus Jody called me the other day to tell me that he and his son are coming from West Virginia and meeting up with his brothers and sisters here next week, and now I find out Ryan is coming from Alabama the week after that. I love cousins, and I feel like I'm lucky to have so many of them. I can't wait to see them.

I've still never been backpacking

2010-04-16T18:15:00.000-07:00

I just got home from the backpacking trip. Unfortunately we never really got to the backpacking part, but I don't know that backpacking would have made the trip any more eventful.

This is the group that ended up going: Me, Glen, Gile, Dorian and his two kids Rebecca & Joe, Bill, Allen, and Bill's son Jake. Bill was Glen's scout leader, the rest of us are cousins. Surprisingly Bill and Jake not only stuck out the entire trip with us, but they even claimed to have a good time.

So this is how the trip went. Glen and I talked on Sunday and he said we'd be meeting in St. George at 1pm on Tuesday. He called on Monday and told me we'd meet at 2pm. He called Tuesday morning and told me we'd meet at 3pm. We met in St. George at 4ish. We had lunch at In-n-Out, took Gile to Wal-Mart to buy some hiking boots, and then out to Aunt Betty's and Uncle Atwood's to drop off my car and pick up the keys to the ranch house. We finally started the 2 hour drive out to the ranch at 6ish. Glen tried to tell me it was my fault we were late because he decided to go searching for my rifle at the parent's house. My rifle is sitting in the gun safe at Glen's house, so you decide whose really at fault. Regardless, here's a picture of the ranch house from the old schoolyard:

I realize it's a crappy picture, but it's the only one I took of the house, and look on the bright side, you can kind of take in a little more of the setting with this shot. We spent the first night there.

Despite our delayed arrival we actually managed to beat Dorian out there. Once Dorian did arrive he stayed up with Glen and Allen plotting out our hiking plans for the next day. Somewhere in there they decided that we would drive out to the rim of the Grand Canyon, hike down, hike back up, dink around and do whatever for the rest of the day, spend night two back at the ranch, and go backpacking on Thursday. The ranch is nice, so nobody was going to whine about not getting two nights on the ground.

We caravaned out to the canyon with Allen and Dorian. Apparently we weren't in a hurry to get started since Allen made the mistake of briefly pausing in front of the bar 10 ranch just long enough for Glen and Bill to bolt out of the suburban "just for a second." Half hour later we caught back up with Dorian who had pulled over to target shoot while he waited for us to catch up. We started driving again, but the guns were out and the shooting didn't stop. Glen, Dorian, and Gile all took turns leaning out the car windows firing at stuff, while Dorian's kids sat in the back of his truck shooting their BB guns.

We finally go out to the the rim where we were going to hike down. Naturally we had to stand around snapping pictures and...just standing around for no apparent reason for another half hour or so before the hike actually started. Here are some of my pictures from the rim:

Doesn't Gile look wistful standing there? Don't kid yourself, there's nothing wistful about that guy. He told us when we got back that his friend died while we were gone, but when Allen pointed out that he didn't really seem all that broken up about it Gile responded "well there's no use cryin' over spilt milk." Allen told him that he could have at least stared off in the distance for a minute or two. I guess we know how broken up he would have been if one of us had toppled over the edge.

Glen and Bill lagged behind the entire hike, and as Allen pointed out, you have to hike much slower if you want to talk the entire time. If you click on this picture, and then look very closely you can see Glen and Bill, momentarily separated making their way down the canyon. Look closely though, because they're a ways up there.

Dorian stopped about halfway down to wait for everyone to catch up, everyone but Glen and Bill, they were too far back.

...and here we are at the bottom:

Here's a shot of the eagle on the canyon wall:

Here's Glen trying to clean off the mouthpiece of his camel pack after discovering that he'd been grinding it into the sand with his foot all through lunch:

This next shot is of Glen with his little bag of Asian trail mix, which he generously offered to share with Gile. Gile actually ate a handful before Glen told him it was four years old and he'd just found it in the bottom of his bag. He also offered some to Dorian and Allen, who both tasted it, and then immediately spit it back out without actually digesting any of it.

Another picture of the canyon from the hike back out:

After we got back out of the canyon, we waited around for Bill and Glen to chat their way back out before we loaded up and started heading back to some other sites. Somewhere in there Dorian spotted a vein of quartz on the side of a mountain, and we decided to detour over to check it out. Dorian turned off onto a little dirt road that was in pretty bad condition, and Allen continued on the other dirt road around to the other side of the hill, mountain, whatever you want to call it. We got out and Allen, Jake, and I hiked up to the top of the hill. Gile refused to do any more hiking for the day. Instead he stayed behind to do some target shooting, and Bill understandably made the prompt decision to leave Gile and his gun to take a hike of his own. The view on top was fantastic:
This is looking back at the suburban:

A picture of me on the top:

We could even see Dorian and Glen on the other side, they look like little fence posts, and you can see the little blue dot out in the distance that is the truck:Unfortunately the truck stayed in that same spot for the rest of the night. Glen shot a Quail, and was ready to head back to prepare what Gile referred to as his "quail mcnugget" for dinner so we got all loaded up again, but the truck wouldn't start. The men stood around and talked and seemed to reach some sort of a conclusion about what was wrong with the truck and then everyone crammed into the suburban and we headed back to the ranch.

We decided to stop and look at the Indian drawings (I can't remember what they're called.):

...and it was about that time that everyone began to become painfully aware of one member of our party who was struggling with some digestive issues. I won't say who, I'll let you guess, but let's just say that when this person claimed to feel very picked on, but then complained about being cold, rolled up his window and tried to gas us all it was hard to feel sympathetic.

When we got back the member of our party with digestive issues fell asleep on the couch where he treated us to interesting background noises throughout dinner. The next morning on our way back out to the truck he told us all that it was Glen's fault for feeding him the Asian trail mix, and who knows maybe it was Glen's fault.

Allen and Dorian had gotten up early that morning to drive into St. George to get car parts. The plan was to drive back out to the truck, fix it and send Dorian on his way back home. Then we would get down to the backpacking portion of the trip. Here are the men working on the car, well Dorian working on the car anyway:

Glen took a break to shoot a blow snake...ummm...well not really because that would be illegal, and he would never break a law. He just found that dead snake laying around out there.His plan is to use the skin to replace that hideous band on his hat. He was hoping for a rattle snake, but no such luck.

After a few hours of hiking around with Rebecca, dragging through bushes with Gile for a rabbit to shoot, and scratching around in the dirt with a stick, the men announced that the truck was not going to be fixed, and that it would need to be towed into St. George by the suburban. We spent the rest of the day slowly dragging the truck back out. We made multiple unplanned stops where everyone got out, walked around, had lunch, shot guns, and stood around talking, until Gile or Allen took a turn yelling at everyone to load back up again.

We stopped at the old school house, and this time Glen shot a little cottontail. He was showing me how to clean it when he discovered that it was full of worms. So no bunny for dinner after all.

Regardless we stood around out there for a while waiting for Glen to finish giving two very clean, well-groomed strangers a tour of the one room schoolhouse while Allen shot of a few rounds, and threw rocks until he realized that the strangers were going to start suspecting him of being some kind of vandal. Heaven only knows what they thought of us, with Allen out there throwing rocks and firing guns while Gile yelled at him about poaching and breaking the law, while Glen completely covered in a fine layer of dust, paraded them around the one room schoolhouse.

They must not have been too disturbed since they were nice enough to take that group shot I posted at the beginning. Here's the other one they took where we're all smiling since Glen had just pointed out that the woman's small dog was "having a problem," as it stood over to the side straining in a very odd constipated way. I think most people use the more traditional "say cheese" to get a good picture, but I guess that's just not how we roll:

After that we had only one more big stop when Allen had to unhook the truck and head back down the road to find Bill and Jake back fixing their second flat tire. We passed the guns around, stood around and talked until Allen got us all herded back into the car and well after dark we finally rolled into St. George. We dropped the truck off at a garage, stood around in the parking lot for a while, then went back to Aunt Betty's to get my car, drop off Dorian, and stand around and visit for a while. We finally decided to proceed to dinner at In-n-out and spend the night camped out at Gile's place in Toquerville.

It was late by the time we got to Toquerville, and we just threw down a tarp, rolled out our sleeping bags, and went to bed. Well that was after we spent a little bit of time trying to kick all the horse crap out of the way. We gave up at some point, it didn't really seem to smell all that much anyway, at least not until we laid down. We were laying there in a pile of horse crap while Bill asked Jake "well, how do you like camping on the rim of the Grand Canyon?" I'm guessing it's not quite what any of us had envisioned. The next morning I got a little better view, and you can see how it looks all muddy there at the top of the tarp...not mud.Glen made fun of me a little bit for sleeping with ear plugs in my ears to keep any bugs from getting in there. Nobody made fun of me the next morning for having ear plugs when it turned out that we were camped out next to a 4am rooster. I sort of heard him, I gather that everyone else did more than "sort of " hear him. The morning light also gave us a better view of where we were sleeping:

When I woke up Glen informed me that he'd checked with Gile and that there are no facilities on the property, just bushes. We pulled out and went to iHop for breakfast, and sat there talking until Allen tried to subtley suggest that we get going. His suggestion was met with some degree of confusion. So much for subtlety I guess.

Even though I've still never been backpacking, didn't get to camp on the rim of the Grand Canyon, and spent the night in a pile of horse manure, it was the best time I've had in a really long time, and I love that my family is just a little bit redneck.

Backpacking

2010-04-11T21:30:00.001-07:00

Cousin Glen has invited me on a backpacking trip and I am super excited! I've never been backpacking, so I told him to put me on the list. It would seem that we're going backpacking in the Grand Canyon this week. That "we" being me, and a bunch of men. Mostly family, but I've been trying to decide if that makes it better or worse. On the one hand if something goes terribly wrong and I can't make it, they're family so it's not like I can be left behind. I also bank on the family relationship creating feelings of concern rather than irritation should they wind up having to drag me out of the canyon. On the other hand if something like that happens I may be hearing at every family reunion from now until the end of time "remember that time that you tried to go backpacking with us but couldn't hack it?"

I also have this potentially irrational fear that I'm going to collapse under the weight of my pack. I've been repeatedly reassured that this will not happen. Still...do those backpacks not look really heavy? I feel like they do. I'm borrowing a frame from Glen, so I guess I'll find out when I get there.

Celebrities and Fashion Designers

2010-04-07T13:51:00.000-07:00

I went to Utah this past weekend. Initially I had planned on going, then I made a last minute decision not to go, and then an even more last minute decision to go after all. Because I chose to wait until the last possible moment to decide to make the trip the person I was originally scheduled to go with had made other arrangements and I was referred to two male strangers in LA who were making the drive. I signed right up and agreed to meet them in LA Friday morning at 7am.

The moment I laid eyes on the driver I knew finding common ground was going to be a little rough. A mere glance at the second passenger and I could see I was going to be the car weirdo, which I really didn't mind. The driver is an artist, and presented himself as such by dressing in an eccentrically trendy fashion. I don't know how else to describe that look. The other passenger was the most metro man I've seen in a long time. They probably would describe me as lacking any sense of fashion. We did a round of introductions and hit the road.

I sat in the back seat since the passenger guy is tall and his legs were never going to squeeze in back there. From the backseat I listened while the passenger talked about how he works in "the industry," the celebrities he's met, and his experiences working on "major motion pictures." I call them "movies." I truthfully kept hoping the topic would change to something more interesting, but I hoped in vain. The driver seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the conversation. Finally we stopped for lunch in Vegas. Over lunch I sat quietly and observed the driver ask the other passenger "where do you get your shirts?" I suppose my untrained eye was just not discerning enough to see anything spectacular about the shirt in question. It was a nice button up white shirt, but I figured you'd be able to find something comparable at Target. Again though, I was obviously the fashion retard of the group, so I just sat there and silently listened while they talked about fashion designers, and the best places to purchase name brand clothing.

The rest of the drive there the conversation continued to revolve around fashion designers, celebrities, movies, and music (mostly the kind that makes me question how gifted a person really has to be to produce "music" that seems to lack any discernible melody). There were also the additional breaks in conversation when the other passenger's girlfriend would call. She apparently calls him up to half a dozen times throughout the day, and gets very upset if he misses any of her calls. I was actually really fascinated with his relationship. She asked him a bazillion probing questions about where he was and what he was doing during each call, and apparently these conversations are not unusual. I finally couldn't keep it to myself anymore and just had to ask if that bothered him. It would drive me nuts to get one phone call like that, much less six. His response that he and his girlfriend want to be able to share as much of their time together as possible was delivered in such a way that I was left with the distinct impression that he enjoys those phone conversations. Weird, but I'm pretty sure that they both regarded me as weird for thinking otherwise.

I got dropped off in Orem just in time to rush off to attend a little family gathering. As we were leaving the house I asked Sarah where she got the shirt she was wearing, and it was almost a relief to hear her respond: "Oh, do you like it? I bought it online at Target." Just to be clear the ride wasn't miserable, in fact I enjoyed it. I think it's kind of interesting to spend some time with people who I feel are drastically different than myself. That being said, there's also really something to be said for finishing off my day in the company of people who wear clothes they bought at Target, listen to music you can hum, and don't know, or care where you can go to spot a celebrity.

Moving Day

2010-03-31T00:24:00.000-07:00

The move is complete...for the most part, I still have a little unpacking to do, but mostly it's all done. So far I'm ver pleased with my new location, and the men who moved me were fantastic. They had me relocated quickly without incident. Now if I could just get my car back...I feel trapped, and I HATE it! I think when I get it back I want to take a long road trip, somewhere far away, just so I can really enjoy the freedom of personal transportation.

An Untimely Demise

2010-03-29T19:43:00.000-07:00

On my way to meet up with Meredith for the drive to San Francisco, my car started lurching a little. We drove Meredith's car to SF, but the whole trip I found myself fretting that my car's transmission was slipping. It seemed pretty unlikely that the transmission on a BMW would just give out like that when I haven't even cracked 100k yet, but all the same the car was lurching in the sort of way that causes me to worry.

When we got back I broke out the user manual and tried to figure out how to check the transmission fluid. No instructions. I guess they figure that if you own a BMW you're not going to bother doing that kind of thing yourself. I did however read that there is an indicator light that comes on anytime that the transmission fails. I was certain that I didn't get any indicator lights during the earlier incident, so I decided to risk it and drive it home, take it to the mechanic early this morning.

Initially it seemed like the plan was solid, I was almost home when the lurching started again. At least this time I had the presence of mind to look at my little dials and ascertain that the rpm's decreased with each lurch. I don't really know, but it seems to me like the opposite would happen if the transmission was failing. Regardless, the car only lurched a few times and then it wasn't doing anything. The engine just died and I was stranded. As usual I hadn't bothered to charge my phone battery the night before so it appeared that I had enough battery to place one, maybe two calls. I opted for Meredith. She had been barfing all the way home and had sent Jake out for supplies so he was rerouted my direction, and a while later he arrived with a charged phone so I could begin making arrangements to have it towed. I felt quite disturbed watching my little car get hauled off on a tow truck. To be honest I felt like crying, but I knew it would make Jake feel awkward, and I have not yet forgotten the way I was stared at the last time I cried in front of a tow truck person.

Anyhow, Jake was a very good sport about dragging me around after the tow truck to drop off my key with a note at the mechanic, and then even broke the Sabbath to buy me dinner since my roommate has already moved and taken the fridge with her. Nothing quite like coming home to an empty house, no food, and no transportation to leave to purchase food. I'm supposed to be moving tomorrow, so really this whole car issue could not have come at a more inconvenient time. Still, it is what it is, so I just have to deal with it and move along. Today while packing I subsisted primarily off of the leftover road trip food until I couldn't take it anymore and called my visiting teacher to beg her to come get me and go to dinner. Ordinarily I do most of my moving myself, and just call men to come help me with the bed and books, but without a car it's obvious that I'm going to need a lot more help than usual. Haws is helping with his truck, and I've managed to commit enough men to load and unload that I think it will still be quick and painless. I've decided that maybe this unfortunate little incident has happened to teach me to ask for help. I hate asking people to help me, but in this situation I don't have much of a choice.

The mechanic called today, the fuel pump needs replaced. That sounds minor, or at least a lot less serious than a transmission. He has to order in the part, so someday my car and I will be reunited, but for now I've been temporarily immobilized.

Police

2010-03-28T22:14:00.001-07:00

I went to San Fran this weekend for Shaine's wedding. Meredith and I drove up, and after seeing the massive amounts of gear Meredith had packed for her one small child I see why she was the one petitioning for us to drive, rather than fly. Anyhow, the morning of the wedding we loaded up and headed out to the Oakland temple. We were kind of rushing, there was traffic, we were trying to get there early, I was driving down a big hill, I was feeling anxiety about not arriving on time, etc... The point is that there were reasons, legitimate reasons, for me to be speeding.

I am usually fortunate enough to not get caught doing things like that, but not this time. I saw the police car lights go on behind me, and I started switching lanes to pull over. Before the cop even got to the window I already had my driver's license out (the valid one this time) and was leaned over Meredith grabbing at anything in the glove compartment that looked like it might be the registration. The officer started telling me that I was pulled over for going 86mph (I think it was more like 90, but it's not like I was going to correct him), and I'm pretty sure I interrupted him when I shoved my driver's license at him and just sort of blurted out "I know officer, I'm sorry, I'm not from here, not familiar with the area, and we're late for a wedding." Meredith handed him a few registrations, we're not sure any of them were valid anymore and he went to go run my license. He was actually really fast, came back and said to me "I'm going to give you a really big break here and let you off with a warning, although I'm pretty sure the freeway speed limit is still 65mph in Huntington Beach. Just please slow down and drive more carefully...especially with the baby in the car!"

Once we were back on the road I told Meredith that I really couldn't believe he let me off without any kind of a ticket when I was going fast enough to be arrested, but that I also couldn't believe I was one of those people who got reprimanded for driving dangerously with a small child in the car. When Patty heard she announced that she would have rather had the ticket than the reprimand about the baby in the car. The baby reprimand did make me feel like an irresponsible adult for endangering the life of my niece, but I'd still rather get the speech than the ticket.

I did slow down after that, and we made it safely to the temple in plenty of time for the wedding.

Peters Canyon

2010-03-23T22:42:00.001-07:00

I was supposed to go hiking in the San Gabriel mountains today, but the person who was going to come with me is a little under the weather. I was already in hiking mode though, so I decided to go alone, only something closer. I did a little googling until I read about Peters Canyon Regional Park in Orange which was described as 5.5 miles long, elevation gain of only 500 ft., and "moderate" difficulty. So, not that great, but I figured better than watching another Lifetime movie so I went to go check it out. Here's a picture from the parking lot:

The visible homes on the other side of the lake, and the hum of the freeway in the background don't exactly leave you feeling like you've ventured into a wilderness area, but all things considered, not so bad.

The first mile or so was really flat and I was starting to feel annoyed that I'd worn my hiking shoes just to walk along a dirt path. Then I turned a corner and there was a really steep hill that seemed to have just come out of nowhere. I had read a review from some lady (who admitted to being in very poor shape) who complained that the hills were very steep and left her so winded that she had a hard time getting to the top. I was also worried about not making it to the top, but not because I was getting winded. The hill was covered in very fine sand. The bottom layer was packed down hard, but there was a substantial layer of loose sand on top that made me feel like I was going to slip and face plant. About halfway up I was feeling kind of sweaty and just kept picturing myself falling sweaty face first into that sand and getting up with it stuck all over me like some sort of mud mask. Here's a picture of the dirt on a descending portion of the trail. Really I just took this picture because I liked how it was all different colors, which you can't really see all that well. What can I say? I'm not a photographer.

I detoured over onto a side trail for a while to check out the little creek, which was my favorite part of the hike. I love streams and rivers, they fascinate me and I can't even tell you why.

I would say a good 30% of the hike looks every bit as flat as this picture:

Eventually I got to the end of the loop where it turns and you start heading back to the trail head, and discovered why this hike is described as "moderately difficult."

You can't really tell from the picture above, but there are two hills here, with a big dip between them. The whole last half of the hike was like that. It wasn't too bad a lot of steep hills like the one above, but then you go back down on the other side, and then up and then down again, repeated several times until you get back to the flat part of the trail for the last half mile or so.

It wasn't exactly the hike I had hope for today, but it was still nice to get off of the pavement and cement for a few hours.

Lifetime Movie Network

2010-03-22T21:17:00.000-07:00

Aren't Lifetime movies supposed to leave women feeling all empowered and special or something? I thought that was the idea. Maybe someone can now explain to me why this afternoon's viewing of "Seduced and Betrayed" left me feeling perhaps a little pathetic, unstable, and definitely dumber for having wasted the time watching it. I need a job.

An Old Souvenir

2010-03-20T01:13:00.000-07:00

I'm preparing to move...again, so as always I've started to survey my belongings and evaluate what junk items I own that I'm unwilling to drag with me to my next home. This afternoon I got home from a short visit with Christy in San Diego and was digging through some things when I came across a box of modeling clay I bought in Guatemala. Because modeling clay is far more interesting than cleaning stuff out my roommate came home from work a few hours later and openly laughed at me when she saw what I had managed to accomplish this afternoon:

Because I feel that each of my pieces of art deserve individual attention I have posted separate pictures here for you to review. We begin with the little dog. In retrospect I wish that I had given him a collar, but it's too late now.
Next up is the little temple:
Here we have the girl, who is maybe my least favorite, but I made her and that means you get to look at her.
I was rather fond of this piece, my panda bear:
Next the piano:
A rose:
And my favorite, the swimming pool and hot tub:
Last but not least, I had to make the initials that I put on all my works of art. You probably didn't even know that I have works of art, but I do and maybe one of these days I'll paint something that I'm willing to post on here.

When I was done I wadded them all back up into balls of clay, and put it away. The modeling clay will definitely be making the move.

Dodger Stadium

2010-03-15T12:23:00.000-07:00

I used to detest Dodger Stadium because of the time I went there with GG for Mormon night. We went early so that he could scalp some tickets. I didn't realize until we were there and he was trying to get me to stand out on a street corner outside of the stadium and approach people about tickets that it's totally illegal to scalp tickets there. I refused, and told him that the best he could expect from me is that I would trail along after him while he approached people.

We were out there for an hour, and GG had turned down a couple of offers because he wanted to make a bigger profit. He got greedy, and wound up trying to sell his tickets to a couple of undercover police officers. At first I was just kind of amused by the whole thing, but then they separated us, and one of the officers hauled GG halfway down the block for questioning. Then the officers switched so that I could be questioned to make sure our stories matched. The conversation went something like this:

Officer: I understand your boyfriend over there is selling the tickets because you don't want to go to the game?

(Me silently to myself: My boyfriend?! He's going to pay for this...)

Me to the officer: Uh...yeah, that's right.

Officer: You know that's against the law and he can be arrested for that?

Me: No.

Officer: Yeah, we're supposed to take him in. Do you live in LA?

Me: No, we live in Orange County.

Officer: Well you don't want to have to go bail him out of the jail here. It's a rough place over on...blah blah blah...Do you know how to get there from here?

Me: No sir, I don't know the area.

Officer: Is there someone that can come pick you up?

Me: I don't think so, and I don't have my phone with me. (This was back in the days when I actually never left my phone at home.)

Officer: Why don't you have your phone with you?

Me: I didn't think I would need it, he has his phone.

Officer: Ok, your boyfriend has great tickets, why don't you want to go to the game?

Me: I don't really like baseball.

Officer: Why not?

Me: I think it's boring.

Officer: So you don't like sports?

Me: I like other sports, just not baseball.

Officer: What's your favorite sport?

Me: Football.

Officer: Ok, well what was it you wanted to do tonight instead?

Me: I just wanted to go to dinner.

Officer: No movie or anything?

Me: No, I'd just like to go to dinner.

Officer: I see. One last thing, how long have you two been dating?

Me: Ohhh...about a year.

He seemed satisfied, confiscated the tickets, wrote GG out a citation, told him to take me out for a nice dinner, and let us go. All the way back into the stadium we compared questions and responses, and GG could not stop congratulating me for somehow managing to produce the same answers to those questions that he had given which apparently kept him from being arrested. I asked him why he lied to them in the first place, and he said that he was trying to keep them from hauling him off by telling the officer it was my fault he was having to sell the tickets. He had no idea that the officer would come over and verify the story with me. When we got back into the stadium we were forced to waste a lot of time playing some little ridiculous cat and mouse game darting in and out of the crowd so that the same police officers who had since moved into the parking lot didn't see us buying tickets and going to the game. It was summer, but for some reason it was really cold that night, I was freezing, hungry, and someone near me barfed which made me start to feel kind of ill. I made GG take me home early and swore I'd never go back to Dodger Stadium.

It took a guy flying in from Utah a few years later who insisted on taking me to a game there to get me to reconsider, and I'm glad I did. I had a great time and decided that I actually really like Dodger Stadium. It's old, but that's why I like it. It feels to me how a baseball diamond should feel, classic.

Anyhow I write about this now because yesterday at linger longer GG and I were standing there talking and a man in the ward came up, put one hand on each of our shoulders and jokingly asked "so how long have you two been together?" I took the lead and responded as straight faced as possible, "Ohhh...about a year." GG burst out laughing and the poor guy looked super uncomfortable, and even more so when GG said to him "would you believe it if I told you that we were once separately questioned by a police officer who asked us that same question, and we both came up with that answer?" The guy just gave us both a weird look, said that he wouldn't believe that, and hurried away. It happened.

The Dark Side of Cosmetics

2010-03-14T12:49:00.000-07:00

I don't think I know a woman who has set foot into a Sephora who doesn't love it, or a man who has spent more than 30 minutes in a Sephora who doesn't hate it. Sephora has not yet made it's way to Utah County, so I was first introduced to this store in California, and I was instantly in love with the place. It's a store that I can only permit myself to enter when I have plenty of time on my hands. Those rows and rows of little bottles filled with every brand, texture, and hue of cosmetic imaginable just lures me in and I really don't even try to resist. I don't want to resist, I want to waste an hour or more in there figuring out which colors are "right" for me and contemplating how a certain product may just be that one thing I've been seeking that will transform me into a supermodel over night.

So bearing in mind my weakness for this store I needed to stop by there the other night for something. I was supposed to be meeting someone and was working with some time restraints. I assured myself that I know exactly where this item is located in the store, so I would just walk in, pick it out, and be safely back out and on my way in under 10 minutes. Perfect. I walked in, and immediately realized that they had moved everything. I swear I think they moved stuff on purpose just to make people like me hunt through the store to find what they need. I was determined to not fall victim to that game, so I asked the sales lady standing there where they had moved my needed item. She walked with me over to the display. I was very focused, and I didn't really bother to look at the sales person. She of course stayed there to point out some new items, and give me a rundown on all the latest offered by that brand. I was torn between my old product and the newer and allegedly improved version of the same product. To help me out the sales woman offered "I use this one," pointing to the one in my left hand. That's when I bothered to look up at her for the first time and I was so startled I almost dropped everything right there. My first impulse, and what I barely caught myself from saying outloud was "that's not the look I'm going for at all." She quite literally reminded me of a clown. I just don't know how else to describe it. I'm sure I looked surprised, I don't think there's any chance I managed to conceal that. I just hope that she didn't realize it was because I felt like her makeup was screaming at me "Ignore her, look at ME!" I was looking, I couldn't stop looking. I just couldn't get over it, I feel like I'm still not over it. I can't even remember what she said. I think that's probably what comes from spending all day in a cosmetics store. After a while she probably just got carried away, and now...now she looks like a clown. Next time I want to go in there and waste time, maybe I'll remember the clown lady and think twice about it.

Drama Addicts

2010-03-11T12:32:00.000-08:00

Last night in class the teacher got off on a tangent and started talking about how he was watching the news the other night and saw that they were going to play the 911 tape from some guy in San Diego who got stuck zooming down the road at 90 mph in his Prius. The teacher told us that he watched the entire hour of news waiting to hear the 911 call, because he "couldn't wait to hear this guy freaking out on the phone." I thought that was kind of weird that he'd admit to taking some enjoyment out of listening to someone panicking on the phone. It doesn't really appeal to me, but to each their own I suppose.

Then he went on to say that he was so disappointed because on the call the driver actually stayed really calm and composed. The part that just baffled me was when all these people in class started shouting out stuff like "Yeah! I heard that and I think he was totally faking it!" "He didn't sound scared enough for that to be real!" "He's just one of those freaks that wants attention!" "Something is very shady there, he sounded WAY too calm!" The whole time I just sat over in the corner staring at these people trying to process what was happening. Since when does someone have to be hyperventilating and freaking out on the phone to be taken seriously during a 911 call? I've been wondering if these people are so addicted to drama that they can't even fathom staying calm in a panicky situation? I don't know, I just thought it was really odd. Maybe this is why I get my news off the internet instead of the TV, I don't like the drama, I just want the facts.

The Bachelor

2010-03-09T15:52:00.000-08:00

I think it's about time that I write about my favorite TV show. Okay, my all-time favorite TV show is Simon & Simon, but if we're talking about a TV show that is still on TV it's definitely The Bachelor/Bachelorette.

There are just so many things about this show that make it fantastic. First of all Chris Harrison is pretty much my favorite person on TV. I think he has the greatest job ever, despite the fact that he probably feels like a moron having to come out at the end of every episode to remind us all that there's only one rose left, just in case you can't count. I also love it when the bachelor/bachelorette seek out Chris for his dating advice. I don't think he really ever says anything very profound, but the person always acts like he's just gifted them with some invaluable pearl of wisdom. If I could meet any one man in Hollywood, it would most definitely be Chris Harrison. Who knows, maybe he'd have some life changing dating advice for me.

I'm endlessly fascinated with this show even though it's become quite predictable. I never tire of waiting to find out which contestant is going to be the one that all the other contestants in the house hate. It just never gets old waiting for that one contestant to emerge who feels it their duty to warn the bachelor/bachelorette that there are "people that are here for the wrong reasons," or that "everyone else in the house gets to see a very different side" to that particularly hated contestant. I love the way the bachelor/bachelorette is always seriously alarmed by those warnings, but usually proceeds to give the boot to the person who issued the warning, rather than the person they've been warned about.

I also enjoy watching the rejections. I don't know what that says about me, but I think it's fascinating to watch to these men and women verbally trample themselves down on national television. That or they take the opposite approach by venomously announcing that they are way too hot and attractive for the bachelor/bachelorette. Either way no one in their right mind who is watching believes that the rejected contestants aren't (a) very, very hurt and/or angry, and (b) slightly unstable. Every now and again there is someone who gets in the limo, stays composed, says it's okay, and probably goes home and cries and feels bad for themselves in private, leading me to believe that it is possible to make a graceful departure. Yet for some inexplicable reason the vast majority of rejected contestants are in that limo sobbing and saying all kinds of ridiculous things to a cameraman who is hovering over them eagerly capturing every moment for a national television audience, and I'm glad he's there.

That brings me to the next thing I love about this show. I love that the contestants are always saying things like "it was the most romantic date ever..." which never ceases to leave me wondering how it's possible for the date to have been at all romantic when there was a camera crew following them around the entire time. People just say the most ridiculous things on there. How many times have they interviewed a contestant who rambled on and on about the obvious and undeniable "chemistry" or "connection" that exists between themselves and the bachelor/bachelorette, only to have the bachelor/bachelorette turn around and say in their interview that "there's just isn't a connection there" or "it's just missing that spark." I'm both amazed, and endlessly entertained watching what people on this show will say and do, when they know they're on camera. The fact that they know that everyone they ever have, or ever will meet may see this makes the whole thing all the more interesting.

Generally speaking the people on this show (with of course the notable exception of Chris) are annoying. This last bachelor Jake was more feminine than most of the women. At times he was so cheesy that it was just outright nauseating, but I didn't miss a single episode. That Deanna girl was the most dramatic woman I've ever seen and I frankly couldn't stand her, but don't think for a minute that a silly little thing like that would keep me from watching. Jason, also ultra dramatic, and in my opinion not good looking enough to get away with it. Again it didn't stop me from watching the entire season.

There just isn't a better show on television, and I'm sorry that this season is over. I loved the Jason and Molly wedding, and can't wait for the "where are they now" episode next week.

La Cucaracha

2010-03-07T22:29:00.000-08:00

I showered with a cockroach this morning, and now I'm a little bit leery of the bathroom. It was a disgusting experience. I reached down to pick up my exfoliating gloves so that I could exfoliate my legs prior to shaving (it gives you a closer shave). Just as I picked them up I saw something dark drop onto the bottom of the tub. There was some sort of a delayed reaction where I just stood there staring at this decent sized cockroach while my brain tried to wake up enough to process what was happening. Then it started moving towards me and I was forced to exit the shower immediately. In my vulnerable state of undress I could not risk remaining in the shower and having the cockroach make some quick movement and wind up somewhere on my person. I got a towel and went for some bug spray, killed the thing off, and then was forced to face the reality that I was going to have to somehow touch it in order to remove it's corpse from the bathtub so that I could continue my shower. Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. I had to stand there and regroup for sometime before I got up the guts to get a massive wad of toilet paper and quickly move it into the toilet, but not too quickly because I couldn't risk it coming dislodged and flying out onto the bathroom floor, or worse yet, onto me. Just thinking about it grosses me out. The thing that really freaked me out is that this is a cockroach we're talking about here, and those things don't die all that easily. I know this, so I experienced I high level of concern that I might reach down to grab it only to discover that it was still alive and again have that possibility of it winding up somewhere on my person. It's just such a repulsive bug. Anyway, needless to say the cockroach did in fact appear to be dead, but I flushed it away as quickly as possible, just to be safe. Tomorrow when I shower I'm going to go in there armed and on the ready with the bug spray lest I experience a repeat incident.

I think it's a sign

2010-03-04T16:24:00.000-08:00

This is Tyler, one of my favorite Utah people, (and I don't even have to say that because I don't think he reads blogs) who really isn't a Utah person at all, just a BYU transplant:

I wanted to post this picture to illustrate the fact that he's amusingly trendy, and really probably way too cool for me. Maybe I get a little cooler just by association? Probably not, but anyway, my favorite thing about Ty is that he likes BYU sports just as much as I do, maybe even more than me...well probably not, but maybe. He likes them enough that he didn't seem at all phased when I rolled into town a few weeks ago and immediately started searching for an allsports pass for the UNM game. He was also kind enough to tell me all about his two weirdo roommates before he let me know that he had a test to take the day of the game, and ask me to stand in line with a roommate while he took the test. I hesitated, but was reassured that the roommate I would be meeting is not weird, gay, or dangerous.

And that is how I wound up getting to know a strange 22 year old. It was fine. Actually, I'll go further, it was fun. He started off with an interesting willingness to share all sorts of things about Tyler with me. We discussed his hairstyle, his dating history, his sleeping habits, and even his temper. Eventually we moved on to other topics, but it turns out that with three hours to kill you can learn a lot about someone from chatting with a person who lives with them. It makes me wish everyone I know had a roommate like Tyler's. I don't think any differently of him, I might even think a bit better of him solely based on the fact that his roommate seems to have some degree of admiration for the guy. The experience begs the question though, what would the people who live with me say? I wish I could go incognito and chat up a roommate or two, just to see what happens...then again maybe I don't, girls can be really mean.

Checked Out

2010-03-02T03:12:00.000-08:00

The warm weather has put my brain in vacation mode. I've been driving to Norwalk at least one night a week for how many years now? A few and I still somehow managed to cruise by the 605 exit this evening. I overshot it by a few miles.

Did someone want to mention this?

2010-02-28T23:29:00.000-08:00

I know that I can be a bit absent-minded sometimes, as evidenced by my previous post, but I thought that I'd at least notice a big gaping hole in my clothes. Apparently not. A few days back I had spent the evening strolling around the house in these when I became aware of a sort of breezy feeling on my bum. I guess it's not really all that shocking that I managed to miss the hole, because well...I've gotten myself out the door in stained and tattered clothing on previous occasions without realizing it. What really surprises me is that nobody else in the house mentioned the fact that I was wearing pants that are missing a significant portion of the rear. Thank goodness there weren't any visitors over that night.

2010-02-24T12:24:00.001-08:00

How does a perpetually cold person who is from Utah, and therefore all too familiar with the temperature of snow, find themselves on a week-long "winter vacation" with only three short sleeved t-shirts, and a swimsuit, but no coat or jacket? Not to mention my battery-heated socks, or the nice warm sweaters and long sleeved shirts sitting in my closet at home. Wouldn't it be nice to have those with me right now...

Gym People

2010-02-19T01:17:00.001-08:00

After tonight's workout I'm adding one more notable weirdo to the list. I went to the gym around midnight tonight and spotted a man there working out in dress shoes, slacks, and a button up shirt. Actually he seemed to be doing a lot more wandering around staring than actually exercising. I can't decide if that makes it more or less odd. As a side note, someone will probably call me a racist for saying this, but sometimes when I go to the gym I wish I looked all nice and glossy like black people do when they are sweaty. I'll admit that I stare at the black men in the gym, I'm not going to pretend that I don't. I can't seem to get over how nice and shiny their skin looks when they're working out.

Whales

2010-02-18T15:04:00.000-08:00

To celebrate President's day this year Meredith and Jake generously invited me along on a whale watching expedition. I was very excited, because first of all I've never seen a whale, and second because it had never even occurred to me to go whale watching before, and therefore this instantly appealed to my impulsive side. I feel very stifled lately and I've been really just kind of aching to do something a little bizarre and completely unplanned. Whale watching doesn't really cover it, but I felt like it was at least a step in the right direction.

It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day and we'd neglected to bring sunscreen for ourselves or Meredith's baby. Once we got on the boat Meredith made me approach some lady with a bulging backpack to see if she had sunscreen. She didn't, but her husband had some stowed away in his bulging backpack. I'm not sure what that was all about, it was only a two hour trip and it appeared to be just the two of them, so I don't know what the need was for all the gear. That's okay though, I rely a lot on people like that to cover for people like me who are chronically under prepared. (Although in this particular instance it was actually Meredith that dropped the ball and not me.)

We got the baby all slathered up with sunscreen and the boat started heading out towards the ocean. After about an hour our boat pulled up behind another whale watching boat that had already spotted a whale. While we were waiting for the whale to resurface the captain repeatedly issued some very specific instructions for everyone to remain where they were while he moved the boat around to make sure everyone got a good look at the whale. Naturally as soon as the whale resurfaced out in front of us that little bit of advice fell on deaf ears as everyone started shoving and herding up to the front end of the boat for a better view. I must say that it was really kind of cool to see a wild whale, and I was really enjoying the trip.

We had been there for a while and seen the whale resurface a few times when the third whale watching boat arrived. That's when things went south. There was just something about bobbing around in the ocean while looking at two other boats also rocking back and forth that had an astonishingly rapid affect of making me feel like collapsing. I went back to my little bench and put my head down. Jake came over after a while to assess the situation. I was pretty out of it, but he told me later that the sunscreen lady was trying to get him to reach over and press his pop can on my forehead. Thankfully he refused and I was spared having his pop can shoved in my face. I did sit up for a minute to tell him that it wasn't going so well, but I don't remember much of what I said, other than letting him know that I was off to find the restrooms so I could ralph. I found them and had to all but shove some lady out of the way who was just standing in the doorway of the stall for no apparent reason. She's lucky I shoved her out of the way, another 5 seconds and she would have been very sorry for loitering around in there like that. I spent most of the trip back to shore hanging out in the restroom. When I looked in the mirror I was a little scared for myself. I'm pasty white to begin with and I had no idea that it was even possible for me to look that washed out. Once we got back in the bay Meredith said I started to look more normal. They dropped me off at home, and I didn't make it past the living room couch. Turns out whale watching can really sap the energy right out of you. I stayed there the rest of the day and was so leery of food that I didn't dare eat anything again until late that night, but totally worth it to see the whale.

I'd like to say a prayer and drink to world peace.

2010-02-02T00:51:00.001-08:00

As usual today's post is for Glen who I very much miss. I wish you were here to observe another Groundhog Day with me. Celebrating this holiday has never been as much fun without you, but I guess I'll just have to manage. Next year we should rendezvous in Punxsutawney.

Well I'd love to stay here and talk with you, but I'm not going to. I love you cousin, happy Groundhog Day!

Car Registration

2010-01-31T14:51:00.001-08:00

California wanted almost $500 to register my car this year, so I decided to register it in Utah instead. Besides, I thought I might be moving back there soon. I got the registration switched to Utah over Christmas, but naturally I haven't changed the plates yet. I still have another month or so before they can impound it again, so no rush.

Patty and I decided to go to the LA temple early Saturday morning. I volunteered to spend Friday night in Rossmoor, and I decided it would be a good idea to get ready for bed before I drove over to the house around midnight Friday night. I didn't anticipate getting pulled over in my pajamas for expired registration, but it happened.

The whole drive was uneventful, right until I pulled up in front of the Bostonian, and the cop car who had been kind of tailgating me down the street pulled up behind me with his lights flashing. He came over and asked me to show him my driver's license and registration, at which point I was forced to lie to him and tell him that I have moved to Utah and have therefore registered my car in another state. I told him that I was just in Rossmoor visiting friends. I justify that lie by telling myself that I did move to Utah this summer, and I was just visiting friends. Unfortunately I couldn't find the Utah registration. I had a bunch of stuff in my car so I was sifting through old homework assignments on the seat next to me. Then I moved along to the glove compartment and started pulling out a bunch of receipts from oil changes and car maintenance stuff. Over the next 15 minutes I did manage to find three different expired California registrations. By then the cop was looking very annoyed, and told me that "maybe we can just start with the driver's license." I have an expired one of those too that I was able to produce first before I got the right one. There is no doubt in my mind that the cop thinks I'm an idiot. I did finally find the Utah plates in the backseat of the car. He asked me why I hadn't put them on yet and I told him I didn't have the tools to do it. I was laboring under the impression that it required some sort of special tool, although I've now been corrected on that point. The cop just told me to put the plates on right away and hustled back to his car. He's sorry that he stopped me, I'm sure of it.

I found the registration right after he drove away.

Rejected

2010-01-25T21:51:00.000-08:00

My first rejection letter from BYU arrived today via email. I've been expecting it, and although I was a little surprised, and perhaps slightly insulted that they responded so quickly I wasn't at all upset about it. I still did spend a fair amount of time trying to determine whether I had already just come to terms with the idea, or if I was just was shocked and therefore too numb to feel all distraught about it. I sat there and stared at the email for what felt like a very long time before I decided that continuing to look at it wasn't making me feel more upset, and I was in fact mostly just daydreaming about unrelated things. So I closed it out and went about my business. I mentioned the letters to a few people and weirdly some of them seemed genuinely disappointed that I wasn't prepared to put on some sort of dramatic emotional display. Maybe I'm just building up to it, you know saving up a bunch of disappointment and frustration so that when the last of the rejection letters arrive I can then emotionally unload on the first poor soul who has the misfortune of asking me what's new in my life. I don't think so, but that still might be something you'll want to take into consideration next time you see me and feel tempted to strike up a conversation.

The PBR

2010-01-23T09:43:00.000-08:00

How can you not be excited about a competition that starts off with a pile of dirt suddenly bursting into flames to spell out an acronym?

Patty invited me to go with her and some other people this Friday to watch the PBR. That's Professional Bull Riders, and that's all she had to say to get me to clear my Friday night. Any event that allows me the opportunity to wear my big belt buckle and cowboy boots is an event I want to attend. Any event that brings out the white trash element in Orange County is an event I want to at least consider attending. That's how I found myself sitting in the Pond last night wondering where a person would even go to purchase a cowboy hat in this county. I still don't know, but plenty of other people there seemed to have figured it out.

The PBR did not disappoint. It was fantastic, and the only letdown is that it's sort of short. Although the guys only ride the bull for 8 seconds, so that does kind of make sense. Patty and I discovered that at first we were all about following the rider's, but it did not take us very long to adjust our focus to the bulls. It's pretty spectacular watching a huge animal like that writhing around and contorting itself every which way. We were kind of partial to the bulls that got so miffed that they would dismount their rider, ignore the exit gate, and race around the arena trying to gore somebody. It makes me want to never come in close proximity to one of those animals, and question the sanity of the riders. Whether or not they're crazy, it's really solid entertainment.

Prayers

2010-01-20T12:14:00.001-08:00

Do people ever thank you for praying for them, when in reality their problems aren't even being taken into consideration while you're praying? It happens to me from time to time, not often, but every now and again someone will say something to me like "thank you so much for your thoughts and prayers, it means a lot," while I privately think to myself "interesting...until now it hasn't even occurred to me to pray for you." Of course I actually respond to them by saying something like "Oh, not a problem. I just really hope things get better..." That's right, I roll with it. I'm not going to admit to them that I haven't been concerning myself with their problems. That probably makes me a selfish person, but perhaps this is just a way for people to attempt to solicit prayers in their own behalf without actually coming right out and requesting them? Then again I guess there's always that possibility that they just sincerely believe that I am far more aware and considerate of their hardships than my actual prayers would indicate.

California Women

2010-01-13T22:17:00.000-08:00

I wound up at some unemployment office in Long Beach a few days ago. It's kind of a long story how that happened, but not particularly interesting. Suffice it to say that it is directly related to the fact that I'm unemployed.

So there I was in a long line with a lot of people who are the sort you'd expect to see at the DMV. I couldn't help but notice that the guy behind me in line kept creeping closer and closer. I think it's particularly annoying when I'm standing in line with the person behind me practically plastered up against my back. Some of my cousins and I have discussed this, because it happens a lot at Disneyland. One of my cousins like to lean backwards until she's all but leaning on the person behind her. Another cousin likes to let the line in front move ahead while she holds things up and lets the person behind her go crazy with anxiety. My tactic is to turn around and face the person. It usually makes the person violating my space very uncomfortable and they take a step back. If not, I just inch a little closer, eventually they will retreat.

Anyway, I turned to face this guy behind me at the unemployment office, and predictably he looked really embarrassed and took a step backwards, but immediately apologized and told me he was trying to see my watch. From there we started chatting. He told me he had been "laid off" from his job as a security officer. His employer told him they were going to let him go because they felt he was overbearing, and then leaned forward and all but shouted at me "I am not overbearing, that's ridiculous! They'll just say anything to get rid of you these days!" It took everything I had to keep a straight face and appear sympathetic. He told me all about his life. He's from Compton, he's been married for 30 years, but is having serious marital problems that have been exacerbated by his recent unemployment. It's his second marriage. His first was when he was 18 and lasted 4 months. He has 3 kids. Two daughters and a son. The son is a drug addict. The older daughter has a son with severe respiratory problems. His parents live in Vegas, his wife's parents live in Mississippi...etc. I mean, I got the whole story. When he finally ran out of personal material to divulge he leaned over and actually thanked me for listening and for "not being stuck up like all the other white women in California." What's wrong with all you other white women that don't want to hear these stories?

MY EYES!!!

2009-12-30T23:57:00.000-08:00

My little niece is super cute, and super fat. She has a problem with overeating, and therefore a not so unusual tendency to spit up a lot right after she has been nursed. I am well aware of this, so I have no one to blame but myself for what happened this evening. I just should have been more cautious.

Sarah was getting ready to leave to go to dinner with some friends and so she fed Winnie, and had her settled into her swing, looking cute and happy. She mentioned that Winnie had eaten a lot and was really full, but stupidly I still asked if I could hold her for a bit. I was bouncing her around on my lap, and nothing happened so I kind of forgot about Sarah telling me she'd just finished a big meal. She likes to be kind of tossed in the air a bit, so I tossed her up a few times and she was all smiles so I did it again. This time she barfed just as she was landing back in my hands and I was looking up at her. She didn't just spit up a little either, that little girl unloaded right in my face. I wasn't able to see anything because she barfed in my eyes, but I heard Sarah and Jared sitting across the room saying things like "Oh GROSS!! It's everywhere!!" They were sort of laughing too though, and who can blame them? I was less amused. I used the diaper wipe Sarah shoved in my hand to get my eyes cleaned up enough that I could open them again, and the first thing I saw was little Winnie laying there in my lap with a huge grin on her face like it was the best thing that had happened to her all day.

It's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt...

2009-12-03T18:44:00.000-08:00

I can't get over the story about the guy that died in Nutty Putty. Cousin Glen called the day before to tell me that someone was stuck in there, and I assumed that it was just some big guy that was trapped in the birth canal again and they'd have him out before too long. When I woke up Thanksgivng day and started looking through the news stories on CNN, I was shocked to see that the top story was about a man who had died inside of Nutty Putty. It just didn't even occur to me that he'd actually die down there. The idea that they still couldn't even pry his body out was horribly disturbing to me. After thinking about it for a long time I've concluded that there are a couple of reasons why this story bugs me so much:

1. It's one thing to read about someone being trapped or stuck somewhere, and imagining what that must be like. The problem here is that I have been in Nutty Putty, and therefore I don't have to stretch my imagination very far. Unfortunately I already have quite a bit of knowledge about that cave. I know what it looks like, how it smells, and worst of all how dark and eerily silent it can be in there. (I went in with a small group one time and we all decided to flip of our lights and sit in the quiet just to see what it would be like. I think that lasted all of about 15 seconds before everyone became very uncomfortable and started talking and turning lights back on, myself included.) I think that it would be far less disturbing if I had to use a little more creativity to imagine the setting for this tragedy.

2. I went in the cave multiple times, and on numerous occasions I watched people I was with, or people from other groups do things that I deemed to be ill-advised. On at least one occasion there was a member of my party who became temporarily snagged in a very small space and one of the other guys with us had to tug on him and drag him back out. Although this is someone that I would not ordinarily consider to be of below average intelligence, I remember thinking that he was basically an idiot for wedging himself in such a tight spot in the first place. Additionally I also remember thinking that if it had been me that had been stuck somewhere, even if it had only been a minute or two, I would be completely panicked. This guy didn't seem to be all that alarmed. After thinking about this I've decided that it was only a matter of time before someone wedged themselves into a spot so tight that they couldn't be extracted, and it's not out of the realms of possibilities that it could have just as likely been a friend of mine, which disturbs me.

I was starting to forget about this story, and put it out of my mind when I read the new article today about them sealing up the cave. I read through all of the comments afterwards and I'm astonished by the number of people who seem to be flat out angry about the cave being sealed. I kind of see their point, because I thoroughly enjoyed spelunking, but this story has pretty much ruined it for me, and I have no desire to ever go back inside. Apparently not everyone feels that way.

Progress

2009-11-18T01:08:00.001-08:00

As some of you know I recently became the proud owner of a deformed turtle. He's a cute little guy though. Here's a picture:
I didn't really intend to acquire another turtle, but I was perusing craig's list, and there he was, and he'd had been listed for quite a while. The next thing I knew he was mine. I mostly refer to him as my little boy turtle. He's a stubborn little fellow, and refused to eat so I felt compelled to take him with me to Utah. I couldn't very well leave him to starve to death on somebody elses hands. Fortuitously it turns out that Jared has experience force feeding turtles. Who knew? Jared gave me a series of instructions about how to chop up food, put it in a syringe, shove a stick in the turtle's mouth to prop it open and then squirt the food down in there. It looked very easy when Jared did it. My first attempt wound up with me shooting little chunks of catfood out of the syringe all over the floor. It went better on round two and I managed to get the catfood in his mouth. He seemed to really be a fan of the catfood and after that has turned a corner. My little boy turtle is finally eating, on his own, without a stick and syringe.

Cracker Crumbs in my Hair

2009-11-13T09:48:00.000-08:00

I drove back to California yesterday. Sarah decided to bring her kids and caravan out with me. Jared will fly out and meet her here as soon as school allows. Thor rode in my car most of the way here. For the most part he was really good. Although right outside of Baker he took his pacifier out to eat some crackers, and misplaced it. I didn't notice until he started making this whiney little noise at me. Even then it took me a while to figure out what he wanted, and when I did, I had no intention of pulling over to look for it. The whining went on for quite a while, then there was some screaming and angry crying in the backseat. I had just resigned myself to the fact that I was going to listen to that for a while, and had stopped trying to talk to him to calm him down when I saw some bits of crackers fly over my shoulder. I looked back at him sitting in his carseat giving me that "what are you going to do about it" expression on his face. He started digging around for more cracker crumbs to throw at me, and instead found his pacifier. All the sudden he was sitting back there quiet and content like nothing had just happened, like he hadn't just tossed cracker crumbs at his aunt in a fit of rage.

What Happened to Me?

2009-11-08T23:50:00.001-08:00

It would seem that the time to start applying to grad school is suddenly upon me. I haven't taken the GRE yet, but I have started filling out applications online. How stressful is it really to type basic information into little boxes online? Well turns out it gives me anxiety. While filling out these forms I have become gripped with this nagging fear that I won't get accepted anywhere, everyone will turn me away. I keep catching myself thinking "what if nobody accepts me? Then what?" It's dawned on me that this is an outcome that I've never stopped t0 consider before now. I don't have a game plan for that scenario. I'll cross that bridge if and when I come to it I guess.
Periodically throughout this last year I have wondered to myself what I was thinking when I decided to go back to school. Isn't this the sort of thing that people just talk about doing? It's not the sort of thing that anyone actually does. Okay, so there are always a few people that really do follow through, but since when am I that person? Since never. What's happened to me? Weren't my big ambitions in life to attend every football game BYU played during at least one season, take a road trip from sea to shining sea, ride an Icelandic horse across a beautiful field in Iceland, see the Alhambra castle in Spain, and okay there are some others that I've actually done, and now I'm somewhat embarrassed to even admit what they were, but you get the idea. Torturing myself with grad school wasn't anywhere on that list. Yet here I am, filling in the little boxes, and praying that grad school is where I'll be this fall.

Swine Flu?

2009-11-06T22:53:00.000-08:00

I mentioned in my last post that I've been afflicted with a horrible cold. I really can't overstate that. It's been pretty miserable, but the worst part has been that I feel so tired all the time. It's like someone has slipped me some drugs or something. I ventured out for a bit yesterday, and came home so exhausted you would have thought that I had run a marathon. I was talking to someone else who had the Swine flu, only he didn't run a fever or have any typical flu symptoms, just some respiratory distress. A few people have suggested that's what I've got, and now I'm starting to wonder. It's either the swine flu or the worst cold ever. I seem to be on the upswing of things now though. Hopefully I'll have my energies up enough by the beginning of next week that I can get myself back to California in time to go with the cousins to Disneyland.

Back in the Home State, Again

2009-11-03T14:37:00.000-08:00

I decided to come home for a little visit this month. Meredith and Jake were blessing their baby last Sunday, so it seemed like a good time to come. I had a little cold when I got here, which almost immediately turned into the cold from hades. I've spent the few days here coughing, sneezing, and blowing my nose. I have all the energy of an 80-year old chain smoker, and I sound like one too. I am actually starting to sound more normal today, but I've been such a waste of space for the past few days that I almost think it would have been best to just have someone knock me out, and wake me up once my body has recovered. Right before the cold got really bad I did get to go with the Hexberg's out to Antelope Island to watch the buffalo round-up.

This is Thor and I there with a bunch of bison in the background. We also saw a lady there who was holding up her dog, to make sure he got a good view of the buffalo I guess. So naturally Jared had me take a picture of her as we drove by:

It would seem that I wasn't too subtle about snapping that picture, but whatever...

Football Games

2009-10-23T12:59:00.000-07:00

I finally got to see some football games in person this year. A couple of weeks ago I drove to Vegas and watched BYU beat UNLV. The brothers and my dad were there, and it's always good to see them. Johnny came along too, and after multiple attempts I finally got him to pry his eyes off the field long enough to get this one picture:

Getting him to stand still and actually smile seemed like too big of a feat, so we just stuck with this one. That's okay, I still think it's a great picture, and it does capture that half-dazed expression that he has mastered.

The next weekend I went to San Diego and watched BYU play SDSU. I was with a friend of mine and we hit bad traffic on the 5 and ended up getting there a little late. We were in the parking lot and the game had already started when some strange man in a big truck pulled up and asked if we already had tickets. I guess we looked stand-offish because he mentioned later that we both looked at him like he was a pedophile. I told him that we hadn't bought our tickets yet, and he asked if we'd like some free tickets to a loge. I didn't actually want to go sit in a loge with an SDSU fan, but I did want a free ticket into the stadium, so I accepted. We went in and found Devon and Annette, sat with them for a quarter and then decided that maybe it wouldn't hurt to just go check out the loge. The guy was super friendly, not all that drunk, and offered two more tickets for Devon and Annette. So we all wound up in the box. It worked out very nicely since all the BYU fans from out-of-town who didn't know any better had bought tickets in advance that were all around the box, and there was free food. So I got a free ticket, a padded seat located in close proximity to a lot of blue, a hot dog and beverage, and most importantly BYU won. It's probably the last game I'll get to watch in person this season, so I had to really enjoy the experience. I always hope for better, just for the team's sake, but it's never a total disappointment when BYU plays in the Vegas bowl and I get to stop by and see them again one last time on my way home for Christmas.

50ish

2009-10-09T14:17:00.000-07:00

I decided to take my little turtle to the vet to have her looked over. She seems fine, and certainly isn't lacking any energy lately. This is what happens when she decides that she's been in her water tub too long and it's time to get out: And in case you were wondering, those are not little droppings floating around in the water, just leftover turtle food.

Anyhow, she's never seen a vet and I figured it certainly couldn't hurt to have someone take a look and make sure there aren't any nagging issues that need to be addressed. So I called around until I found a guy out in Yorba Linda who is allegedly some sort of turtle expert with reasonable fees. The receptionist was convinced her name couldn't really be Willie, and kept referring to her as Lilly so I just decided to roll with it and made an appointment for Lilly.

I left the house on time, but I was in a bit of a rush and just sort of snatched her up and stuck her in a shoe box. When I got to the vet I realized that she'd been eating some corn on the cob and had dried chunks of corn stuck all over her little face that made her look diseased. I was really too late to do anything about it though, so I just had to explain to the vet that it was her breakfast on her face and not a fungus. The vet says she's in excellent health, and then was looking over his records from the receptionist and remarked that the 20 something age that the receptionist had reported was all off and that she's at least 50 if not older. I knew she was older than 30, but 50 seems a bit extreme. It's weird to think that the same little animal that loves to nap in the closet next to my shoes has been alive for 50 years.

Probaby time for a car wash

2009-10-08T21:21:00.000-07:00

I was headed down Harbor Blvd. minding my own business the other day when I noticed that the guy next to me was motioning for me to roll down my window. I hate it when other driver's try and ask me for directions. I'm not great with directions myself, so I'm not the sort of person you should be consulting for that information. All the same, it was obvious that I had seen him over there waiving at me, so I had no choice but to roll down my window to find out what he wanted. To my shock he didn't want directions at all. He started laughing as he shouted at me from his Mercedes "finally someone else driving a nice car that looks horrible! Sorry, but I just had to say something!" That's when I took note of the fact that his Mercedes did indeed look like it was in desperate need of a car wash. Mercifully the light changed and all I had to do was smile and roll up my car window before I continued on my way, all the while wondering to myself "Did that really just happen?" Unfortunately it did, so I guess it's time to get the car washed.

Home Again

2009-10-04T23:55:00.001-07:00

I finally got moved back into my house in Huntington Beach, and it's a huge relief. I haven't spent much time at home though. Sarah and my mom are in town visiting, so I've been out and about with them. Thor is along for the trip and having him around has made for a pretty great weekend. I'm very fond of this little guy:
He also seemed pretty enthused to see me, which was quite gratifying since I have this semi-irrational fear that he's going to forget me after a while, and be afraid of me the next time I see him. Thankfully his memory for people is looking to be a little bit better than his mother's.

Life as a Homeless Person

2009-09-27T23:07:00.000-07:00

I never feel like posting on here anymore, because I feel like someone has hit the pause button on my life. I haven't recovered my room from the girl I sublet it too, and my status as a homeless person makes my life feel very stagnant.

There have been a few notable events that have happened. I did watch Meredith give birth a few weeks back. My thoughts on that were that first, the epidural didn't look nearly as bad as all the husbands make it sound. I mean sure it's a big needle, but they shove it in there so fast that it's not such a big deal. Second, it's all very surreal how we're all just standing around and the next thing you know there's a baby in the room. It's not like I wasn't expecting it, but for some reason it still took me by surprise.

Okay, maybe there's just been one notable event. I have spent a fair amount of time moving boxes around as the turtle and I shuffle from one friend's home to the other. We're nomads, but Thursday I get to reclaim my room, and get settled back into my permanent residence. Then I will begin the task of figuring out how to set up some sort of suitable housing arrangements for the turtle that won't make my room remind people of the reptile house at the zoo.

Maybe when I get my room back I'll feel like posting again.

What I miss the most about Utah

2009-08-27T12:17:00.000-07:00

I've become quite fond of this guy:

The Trip Back

2009-08-27T11:09:00.000-07:00

I drove back to California yesterday, and got here just in time to unload my stuff and rush off to class. The drive itself was uneventful. The turtle hated it. I stopped in St. George and we visited the grandparents, (I actually managed to find them this time) while she walked around and calmed down a little.Prior to the stop she'd been scratching at the side of her box non-stop since we left. After the break in the cemetery she sucked in her shell and stayed quiet for the rest of the trip. I think the roadtrip experience was disturbing for her, but she did a few laps around a corner of Meredith's living room when we first got here, and she appears to be fine now. Although she continues to wake up with the sun, and made all kinds of racket this morning when she did, it's nice to have her here now.

I'm not really thrilled to be back. I have to start a job hunt now, which I hate. I also have to do something about my expired driver's license. I guess this means I have to go back to the DMV again. This will be at least my fourth trip there this year.

My white trash brother-in-law

2009-08-12T19:25:00.000-07:00

I was trying to finish an assignment last night, but I just couldn't seem to find it in me to focus enough to make it happen. Maybe because I was trying to watch TV, read the news, instant message people online, and chit-chat with Sarah and Jared while working on the assignment. I guess it's no surprise that it wasn't really getting done. When Jared announced that he was going to go to Wal-Mart to get Sarah a back massager to work out some knots I volunteered to go immediately. Sometimes just taking a break from everything refocuses me.

So there I was in Wal-Mart late at night with Jared strolling around looking at foot massaging tubs, and back massagers, when I glanced down and realized that Jared was standing there in the middle of Wal-Mart without shoes! He told me that he couldn't get his flip-flops because they were in Thor's room, and he didn't want to go in there and wake him up. The whole rest of the time I kept watching people around us to see if they were staring, but I actually don't think that anyone else even noticed. Although I do wish that I had a picture of the look of disapproval on Sarah's face after I had pointed it out to her when we got home.

In the Home Stretch

2009-08-03T12:52:00.000-07:00

It seems weird to me that it's almost time to go home again. In some ways I can't wait to get back, and in other ways I dread my own departure. Turns out that summers in Utah are actually a lot better than I remember, especially the evenings. I love how it stays warm outside even after the sun goes down. How had I managed to forget how nice it is to live in a place where people actually have real yards? It's been great being close to the family, and actually feeling like I'm part of a family again.

On the other hand, I miss the beach, and the ocean breezes, and I miss the people in California. If it weren't for the fact that I have a social life there, and pretty much none here, I would be happy to stay in Utah indefinitely. I say that now, because the temperatures haven't started to drop yet.

I dread the drive back to California. There's just nothing exciting about the idea of being trapped in a car all day with nobody to talk to except myself, or the turtle who is returning with me. I love my little turtle, but she's just not the top of my list of animals that make good roadtrip companions. Either way, I'm sure her and I will manage. I think she'll like California, but someday I think I'd like to be able to move us both back to the home state for good. We'll see if I'm still thinking that this December...probably not.

Church in the Home State

2009-07-19T23:26:00.001-07:00

I hate going to the home ward. It's always so awkward, because people act weird around me. People that I knew growing up seem to be tip-toeing around the marriage topic, and it makes me feel awkward. I'd much rather just have an open acknowledgement that no, I have not been married, and it is okay.

Spending this summer in the ward boundaries has therefore created a dilemma. Every Saturday I'm left trying to figure out where it is I'm going to attend church the next day. Fortunately, a friend of mine allowed me to tag along with him to an adult singles ward. The first Sunday was admittedly kind of scary, and a couple of times I was approached and had to stop myself from reaching out and grabbing the arm of my friend to yank him back to my side for protection. The next Sunday was Fast Sunday, and he reassured me that I definitely wanted to come back for the next week's testimony meeting. I didn't have any better offers, so I agreed, but we worked out a rescue signal on the way there.

I didn't really, truly believe the hype about these testimony meetings. This friend had told me many times that crazy things go down all the time, but I was convinced that he was exaggerating. I stand corrected. The Stake President was there, and he started off the testimonies by asking everyone to be considerate of the time, don't take more than a few minutes, and basically don't turn testimony meeting into personal story hour. His request was promptly ignored by all but maybe one, possibly two of the testimonies, and I'm pretty convinced by the abrupt ending of a few that they got the red light. That in and of itself was pretty interesting. People were actually bearing testimony about weird things, like the perfection of the fake plants in the temple, and people that get blown up and disemboweled in foreign countries.

About halfway through the meeting this guy who would have looked more at home at a Hell's Angel's rally came walking in the door in his blue jeans and hoody and walked up to the stand. My friend was ecstatic, you could just kind of tell that he was a loose cannon. This guy waited until the very end of the meeting so that he could be the last testimony and then got up and started off by saying that he hadn't intended to bear his testimony that day, but once the stake president got up, he knew that he had to say something. From there he launched into an apostate "testimony" bashing the stake president, advising us all to ignore him, and stating that the church is in a state of apostasy and that we no longer have a living prophet. Then he huffed off the stand and out the door, leaving the stake president to do damage control. Needless to say, it was the most riveting testimony meeting I've ever sat through, and it was all topped off with that bit of craziness. I'm not sorry that I was in attendance.

All the same, I decided this week to brave the family ward, and I actually kind of liked it this time around. Nothing weird happened, and it was dull in comparison to that other ward, but who knows, I might go back sometime before I leave.

Big Foot

2009-07-14T12:36:00.000-07:00

I broke down and decided to go the family reunion this year. It's not that I hate the reunion or anything, it's just not my style of camping. It's a four day affair, and I'm usually burned out with sitting around picnic tables in the middle of July after one or two days. My solution has been to just not attend the past few years. Since I'm kind of already in Utah, I didn't have a good excuse for not going this year.

So I went, and I spent a lot of time hiking around with my brothers looking for places to shoot guns. After the second day of that something weird happened to my foot. I got back to the campsite, and took my shoe and sock off to inspect the situation. My foot had been a little swollen when I got up that morning, but after the hiking it was bright red, and there were little blisters all over the place. I called it quits with the camping a came home that night. By the time I got back to Orem my foot was huge, and everytime my heart beat, my foot changed colors. It was very weird, and at first I thought maybe it was my imagination that my foot was flashing back and forth between red and white so I made Sarah, Jared, Meredith, and Jake all confirm that they were seeing the same thing. I considered taking a video, but the whole thing was so disgusting that I decided it wasn't the sort of thing anyone would ever want to watch. By Sunday it was so big that I could barely even wedge it into flip flops.

It's getting better now, and I anticipate it will be back to a normal size by tomorrow or the next day. I still have no idea what caused the issue in the first place. Maybe a bug bite, or some sort of plant, who knows? I do know that next time I go camping I won't be wearing flip flops while I'm crashing around in a bunch of bushes trying to set up a tent.

Old Age

2009-06-25T17:07:00.000-07:00

I'm back and classes are underway. It's very weird being back on campus. I'm relatively certain that I'm older than all of my instructors, and I know I've got my classmates by years, even a decade or more in some cases. One of my classes requires me to do a group research project. Our groups were assigned yesterday, and we met together to discuss our ideas for the project. During the discussion it came up what year everyone is in school, and one of the guys there asserted that he is definitely the oldest member of the group. I reassured him that he's not, but he insisted that he is older than the rest of us. I told him that I am certain that I am older, and he remained unconvinced, until I told him that I will turn 31 next month, I think this guy is 24. I guess I should be flattered by the shocked way the group stared at me. It was all very amusing, although I'm certain they felt awkward.

Prepping for Departure

2009-06-16T13:06:00.000-07:00

I have just four more days in California before I leave. I've been trying to wrap my head around the idea that I'm actually going to spend the summer in Utah. It's all very surreal. I've never even considered moving back even temporarily, before this. Now all the sudden I'm packed up, my things are stored in the garage, there's some other girl living in my house for the summer, and I'm ready to leave. How did this happen?!

I'm looking forward to moving, and dreading it all at the same time. I think it will be nice to be close to the family, and being back at BYU. However, I'm well aware of the fact that my age and marital status make me a walking freak show in Utah County, and that I have a total number of 0 friends living in the area. I'm also very concerned that maybe I'm not smart enough to get through round two at BYU. I have a really great life here, and I'm trading in a potentially fantastic summer for...I don't know yet, but I hope that it all turns out so well that I come back here in the fall and can say that in all honesty I'm really glad I spent this summer in Utah, and if I could do it all over again I wouldn't change my mind.

Grades

2009-06-01T14:52:00.000-07:00

My grades are finally all in, and I got an "A" in everything except Statistics. I wound up with a disappointing "C" in that class. At least, thanks to John, I passed. I guess that will have to be good enough, because I don't have the guts to try and repeat it, and risk winding up with the same, or potentially worse grade the second time around.

Coronado

2009-05-22T15:59:00.000-07:00

I almost died on the Coronado bridge today. Okay, not really, but I could have died on the bridge. I always say that I'm going to go drive across the bridge one of these days while I'm down here in San Diego, and then I never actually do it. Today though, I decided I would drive across and then go study in the library. The online pictures of the library seemed pretty great.

I was about halfway across the bridge, and really enjoying the drive, when something seemed to go a little awry with the steering wheel, and then there was this ominous sound from the rear of the car that sounded suspicously like a flat tire. I've never blown a tire before, but turns out that you don't need to have experienced it before to identify the problem, pretty much right away. Of course I could not blow a tire in a place where I could conveniently pull to the side of the road. No, instead I blow a tire in the middle of a two-lane, freeway/bridge over the Pacific Ocean. Stopping in the middle of the bridge just seemed like kind of a bad idea, so I had to creep off the bridge, hoping that I didn't cause a pile-up behind me.

On the brightside, turns out that they have this free "bridge service" for these sorts of incidents, so the next thing I knew a tow-truck showed up and some very nice man put on the spare tire for me. He didn't even whine about the fact that the jack kept sliding around in the sand and it took him forever to get it stable enough to actually change the tire. I don't think he knows that I took this picture of him attempting to jack up the car again: